Never Would Have Guessed
by feralpixc
Summary: Written by me and Peace7. John’s kidnapped. While trying to get him back, the boys meet two female hunters on a similar mission. Sparks ignite, and romance blooms as they join forces to fight the kidnapper. Alt universe to Believing Improbable Things.
1. The Neanderthals Are Starting To Notice

**Written by Peace7 and myself**

Disclaimer/Commentary:

Shar: We do not own Supernatural, Sam, Dean or John. Or Jessica, Cassie or Sarah. We do, however, own Lauren, Sharika, Joyee, Fiona, David, Kyle…and any other character that we made up randomly to fill our story.

Lozz: Actually, I own everything. Especially Sharika.

Shar: Lauren, I thought we agreed that we get equal royalties!

Lozz: I lied. It's part of my charm. This is the first chapter in our story. Also the shortest, possibly craziest chapter. Enjoy!

Shar: Please ignore her. And read and review our story.

Lozz: Yeah, it took much effort. So, if you are going to take the effort to read it (which will also take much effort…) you can make the effort to comment for us!! Hurray, comments!!

Shar: You couldn't think of a word besides 'effort'?

Lozz: I was being lazy. Anyways…ratings are M for sexual content, violence, language, and all that other good stuff.

Shar: The lyrics aren't ours either. We just use them. Don't sue us.

Lozz: No, just don't sue me, sue Sharika.

Shar + Lozz: ENJOY!

**CHAPTER ONE**

**The Neanderthals Are Starting To Notice**

_You see an image that's sweet, well be prepared 'cause I'm not that way…_

_Work every day of the week, when Friday comes it's my time to play…_

_You might be tempted by everything you're feelin' now,_

_I feel obliged to warn you you're on dangerous ground…_

_I'm big trouble…_

Big Trouble (Lots of Fun) – Rebekah Ryan

_Lauren _

Looking around, I see the usual sort you would expect in a small town tavern; the drunks, the workers, the men avoiding their wives, the young blokes looking to rouse the barmaids, and the passer throughs.

Like us.

It was me who insisted we come here tonight – I couldn't stand our cheap room at The 'Mermaid' Motel any longer, and I'd shoved Sharika out the door, to this place.

The conversation went something like:

L: Shar, I'm going to the pub we saw down the road. This place is worse than a Roach Motel. There are _supposed_ to be roaches in those.

S: But –

L: I'm glad you agree. Get your coat.

And so we'd come here. And were debating whether we could actually trust the glasses – let alone the drinks in them – in this place. Well, Sharika was debating, and I was cajoling her, as usual.

"Lauren, everything here looks extremely dirty, we could catch a disease from this place and–"

"Sharika, live a little. It's not going to kill us."

"It might, for all we know."

"Are the locals falling on the floor in convulsions yet? No. And stop sounding so like you," I whispered. "The Neanderthals are starting to notice."

"LAUR–"

"Hello ladies."

"Told you," I mumbled next to Shar's ear. She hid her laughter behind a skillfully employed cough.

The man in front of us didn't exactly look like a local, but how can you tell in America? Everyone masquerades as something else. In Australia you can classify men satisfactorily. Here you cannot.

He was tall, about six foot, blondish, and was wearing a leather jacket – oh wait, there's the plaid shirt. I've noticed that this is a credible way of distinguishing the locals from the passer throughs.

"Shar," I whispered, once again in her ear, one hand covering my mouth. "Get me one of him for Christmas." She smiled faintly, but I could tell that she was distracted.

I followed her gaze to the left and up… and up… and up... and up.

_My God_. This guy was like, so cute, and could pose for a yeti. Tall. Did I mention tall? At least six foot four. He even topped the hottie next to him – no mean feat. He had messy brown hair. And was TALL. Sorry, but I can see why there is much distraction on the part of my best friend. Besides suddenly raging hormones, if you know what I mean…

The blonde guy smiled at Sharika in a way that made me want to hold a towel in front of her shirt. "So, just passing through?"

Sharika, tearing her eyes away from the brown haired guy and said, in one of her attempts to fit into American society – "Yes, we're 'passing through'. We're only staying for a few days. Just hanging out and traveling, nothing too serious. Sort of like a one night stand with America I guess. In Australian terms I mean."

It was a Shar joke. You have to be an insider to get it.

I rolled my eyes and the really tall guy grinned.

Blondie didn't get it.

"Yeah…" and he switched his attention to me. I do love being everyone's second choice. I suppose he'd realized that Sharika wasn't the typical dumb pretty girl that passer throughs like to hook up with, and I looked like an easier candidate. Ha.

"I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We're, er, one-night-standing too," the yeti said, in a slightly husky, very American voice. Cute.

"I'm Sharika, and this is Lauren," Sharika introduced us.

"Sharika, you do know that in America one night stand means –" Dean started.

"Duh," I interrupted, rolling my eyes. Men. Can't keep their mind out of their pants for even one second, can they?

"Lauren, the bartender is calling us. He has our drinks."

I raised my eyebrows at the entity next to me. Surely it couldn't be my hesitant, health conscious best friend. "Oookay then. I'll –"

"I'll help!" Sam interjected before I could get the words out. "You'll need another set of hands to carry the drinks."

I watched them head towards the bar, my face disbelieving. "A man that believes in chivalry, or seizing the opportunity?" I wondered aloud, deciding to keep a closer eye on Shar.

Cynicism is all.

"Chivalry. You've no idea how hard it is to get that boy laid," Dean said, and gave me the most disarming grin I have ever seen.

I answered with my Blank Face.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"She's giving him her blank face," I told him.

"Blank face?" he asked with a confused look in his eyes. "Two beers please," he said, giving his order to the bartender.

"Yea, she has that face on when she is pretending to be bored." I explained as I grinned in Lauren's direction. I tried not to look up at him as long as I could. Since I was from Bangladesh I was used to short guys around five foot six, and if they were lucky five foot seven. My father was only six feet and he was the tallest Bengali in the Australian region. I was standing at the short height of five foot five, and yet I was considered tall!

But this guy, he was the size of a freakin' Sasquatch!

"Pretending?" he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Yes, pretending. It's a Lauren McMartin thing. I'm one of her closest friends and I still don't understand why she does half the things I've seen her do," I answered as we waited for the bartender to finish conversing with another customer so he could serve us our drinks.

"Dean is going to hate that. Well, all I can say is at last he has a challenge," Sam told me.

I still hadn't looked at him, but I could feel his eyes burning a hole on my back. I turned away from the site of an agitated Dean desperately trying to engage Lauren, who was trying her best to act cool and was starting to grow bored from holding her craziness in. Even from this large distance I could tell easily.

"Sharika?" Sam nudged me, holding onto two glasses.

I took grabbed the other two glasses and smiled, as sweetly as I could, to Sam. "We better go back before, _something unpleasant _happens."

"Unpleasant, you have no idea," Sam murmured under his breath.

"What did you say?" I asked. _What could he mean? _

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

∞∞

_Lauren_

Dean insulted me, and I punched him in the face. _(So cute, but so…)_ "Didn't expect that did you?" I asked the unconscious boy. His head had hit the table on the rebound from the back of the bench, and now his body slumped in front of Sharika's feet.

"Shar watch o-"

She tripped over Dean, and the drinks flung out of her hands to connect wetly and -OUCH- with my t-shirt. Talk about bad luck. Trying not to fall forwards, she leant back, crashing into Sam, who then cracked his head on the table behind him.

"How unlucky," I said sweetly. "I vote we leave them here."

"Oh my god! Are they ok?" Sharika asked, as I picked her up from the floor. (Obviously, she hadn't heard me.) She looked at the two unconscious men and gave me her best panicked Sharika look. Don't ask. "Lauren –"

"Oh, don't start," I said, searching Dean's pockets, and trying not to notice the eyes of the locals, (I was wearing a wet, previously white shirt, and for all they knew, robbing a man I had just knocked unconscious. Anymore explanations needed?) Sharika knelt over Sam to check if he was still breathing.

"Aha!" I said, holding up a room key. I then looked at Sharika, and the body she would have to carry. I wasn't even to going try. Sam was – well, I have mentioned.

Their room was also at The Mermaid Motel, by the look of the keys, but farther away than ours from the pub.

"I'll take Dumbass here to their room and try to wake him up. You take Sam."

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" she asked me, I could she that she was scared.

"No Sharika, I've seen bad falls and these ones were pretty mild in comparison."

I picked up the cause of all this fuss from under his arms, and started dragging him out of the bar. Lord help any man who offered help.

∞∞

_Sharika_

Lauren had her 'Fuck off" face on now, as she left the room, tugging at least 150 pounds of muscle behind her.

I looked Sam's body. How did she expect me to move all this dead weight?

She had gotten way ahead of me, considering the weight I would have to carry and the lack of strength in my body.

"Leave me with the big one," I muttered, starting to pull as I'd seen Lauren do, yet I didn't mind as such; after all this meant I could continue to stare at his wonderfully cute face. Two metres outside the front door, and many snorts from the locals later, I was more tired then I could remember being for a long while. Since –

"Hey, need some help?" A teenager considered me from the sidewalk.

His uncaring posture and $300 shoes reassured me at once. He was not here to rob me, or attack me in any other way. Especially since I had an extremely large, extremely strong, and extremely, well, unconscious man on the floor before me. For all the boy knew, I'd knocked him out myself. Ha, as if.

"Yes," I said. "How much for the board?"

∞∞

_Lauren_

"I hate men," I muttered to myself, pulling Dean across the concrete. Why couldn't we have taken the car instead of walking? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It gave me a sense of satisfaction to hear his jeans scraping along the ground. Hopefully by the end of this, he'd have a huge hole in the back of them.

He deserved it.

Tug, tug, and breathe. Tug, tug, tug, and breathe.

How did he drag himself around everyday? I was getting tired of it after barely five minutes.

Tug, tug, tug and breathe…

Finally I was outside room 29. Propping him against the wall, I grabbed the key from my pocket, unlocked the door and rolled Dean inside. Kicking him into the centre of the room, I headed for the kitchen.

∞∞

_Sharika_

Twenty dollars and a promise to do lunch with him when ever he needed me to (to make his ex-girlfriend jealous I suppose) the boy had agreed to give me his skateboard. Unfortunately the board had broken three quarters of the way there. I didn't blame it one bit, seeing the weight it had to carry. It was a miracle that it even lasted that long.

I was finally outside mine and Lauren's room. Room 15.

My arms ached. A lot. And now I still had to get this guy, who was twice my height, and at least twice my weight to his room?! No way, I'm just going to take him to my room. On my bed and hopefully he will wake up, with out a concussion! And no lawsuits following either.


	2. Need A Bra?

**Commentary, Chapter Two:**

**Shar:** I still can't believe you made me drag Sam all the way to our room! Look at me! And then look at him!

**Lozz:** You'd rather have taken Dean?

**Shar:** …That's not the point.

**Lozz:** sighs This one's never happy. Notice how she seems to blame me for everything? Even her _thoughts_.

**Shar:** I have gotten more dirty minded, and it _is _all your fault.

**Lozz:** Mmmmmm-hmmm. shakes head fervently to audience, to show that she isn't agreeing, just placating Sharika then smiles innocently at Shar when she looks back

**Shar:** We still don't own Sam, or Dean.

**Lozz:** Not yet anyway. I'm working on it. Then again, who'd want to own Dean? Stupid asshole…

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Need A Bra?**

_I don't know whose side I'm on,_

_I don't know my right from wrong,_

_I don't know where I'm goin' to…_

_I don't know about you…_

Fire Escape – Fastball

_Sharika_

I've no idea where I got my sudden strength from, but I did it! I got him up on my bed without any injuries, well… any _severe_ injuries. I decided to put a hot cloth on his forehead as my mother used to do when she was stressed.

Humming an old 90's tune I performed this act, wishfully hoping that he'd get up and walk around without any trouble. No such luck. Damn lady luck, couldn't spare any good fortune my way. Too busy with people such as Adam Brody, I guess.

"Uhnn…" I heard a moan. My head jerked down to the source of the noise. "Where am I?" Sam struggled to ask in a groggy voice. I started to massage his temples, to relieve at least some of the pain.

"You were knocked unconscious, due to certain harmful…objects positioned unfortunately in the bar. Sorry," I grinned at him sheepishly.

"Dean?" he asked in less pained tones. At least my massage was working.

"Lauren dragged him to your room. I tried to get you there too, but considering _the factors_ involved, well…let's just say I'm not known for my determination. Oh, and sorry about the splinters. You'll understand soon enough."

He smiled slightly. Using his palms he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Well, Lauren needs to be careful around my brother," he half joked, half warned.

"No, believe me, it's Dean that needs to be more cautious around her." I shook my head, thinking of the torture he must be going through. Lauren in small doses is hard enough to handle; in concentrated ones – well, I could only pray that when Sam went back there, Dean wasn't hacked up on the floor in little pieces. Um, metaphorically I mean. Hopefully.

"I should go back," Sam decided.

"I think you should stay and rest for a while, you did hit your head pretty badly. Obviously you knew that."

He shook his head, causing his hair to become messier than it already was, then put a hand to the side of it, screwing his face up slightly. Obviously he had a bad headache. "Thanks for your help," he grinned finally, and I noticed that he had dimples on both cheeks. "But I should really get back to Dean. Who knows what he's doing."

"If you're sure you can make it," I said unsurely. "But I still think that you should wait."

"Thanks for everything," he thanked me again.

"Welcome. Can you get up?"

"Yeah," he answered. He furrowed his eyebrows and squinted his blue-green eyes, as if he were focusing intently. In one swift movement he stood up, stood perfectly still for about five seconds, then started to topple over.

As if by instinct I leapt up to his aid, momentarily forgetting his size and tried to steady him by placing one arm around his waist and holding onto his left arm with my other hand.

It didn't help, the only thing it did was make the situation worse, as he started to put his weight on me. This of course, caused my knees to give way. I fell sideways while still holding on to Sam's arm, resulting in him falling on top of me.

After a few seconds my heart rate lowered, as did Sam's. "Can you please get off me, I can't breathe," I said, my speech muffled by the fact that I was speaking into his chest. He has muscles, I noted. Then I mentally scolded myself for thinking such heinous thoughts. Ones Lauren would probably have if she were in this particular situation – I mean, Sam could clearly be hurt! I have been hanging out with her too much.

I need some solitary time, so I can tune in with my 'inner self' as those stupid meditating tapes/videos suggest. Who buys them anyway? They are a load of crap! But then again, different people react differently to the same stimulus –

"Sorry," Sam drawled, bringing me out of my random rantings, and straight back into reality and the current situation.

Panting slightly, he slowly lifted himself off me and pulled himself back up on the bed. "You alright?" he asked with genuine concern, his face was flushed.

"Yeah," I replied as I nodded my head. I got up and sat on the bed opposite to the one he was sitting on.

"Good, I didn't want to hurt you." He smiled at me, yet his smile looked restricted.

An awkward silence settled over us. What am I supposed to do now? Offer him coffee? Panadol?

"So…" Sam tried to break the ice.

"So…" I repeated.

He averted my gaze. "You're reading the Great Gatsby?" he half asked, half stated when he noticed the book on my nightstand.

"Yeah," I replied, "for the hundredth time. It's not like I can carry a great variety while traveling, especially with the McMartin." Lauren used to read more than I do, but since we started the trip she's been asking me to do kung-fu fighting classes with her, or come shoot at targets, and such and such. So we didn't have much time for recreation.

"It's my favorite book," he informed me.

"I like how Fitzgerald represented the high class society and contrasted upper and lower class, but Daisy was just way too ditzy! The other characters too, they were so exaggerated," I told him. I took out my hair band, bunched up my long black hair and retied it, getting rid of the multiple strands that came lose in the past hour.

And we started to argue over the finer points of Fitzgerald's novel.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I almost felt sorry for the man at my feet.

You know – almost. But not quite.

I upended the glass of water on his face, and watched him splutter, choke and clutch his head. I could feel the waves of pain from up here. Damn. I tried to feel nothing but satisfaction though – and planted that look on my face.

Until he vomited on my feet.

Now I had to feel sorry for him. To lose his control like that, he must be really nauseous. (My great disgust and blank face as I stared at the mess on my bare feet goes without saying. Taking my shoes off in the kitchen had obviously not been as good an idea as I had thought at the time.)

I knelt down, to the side of most of the upchuck, and felt his forehead. "Vomit on me again, and so help me – you won't know the meaning of pain. Now, are you okay?" I felt guilty.

Dean stared at me. For a second I even imagined he was about to apologize. Then his eyes averted slightly and he asked, with a suspiciously amused look on his face – "Cold?"

Explanation? My white – well, ish now – shirt was still wet, and it had been cold outside. Why couldn't America grow some damn warm air?!?!

So I – well, I knocked him out again. I have anger management issues.

As soon as I did it, I felt bad of course; but hey, no use crying over spilt milk right? Or unconscious men on the floor lying in a pool of their own vomit.

He was going to have beautiful shiners in the morning.

_But he deserved them_, I tried to persuade myself. He vomited on your feet! I didn't really believe myself. But we'll live.

I was not going to take anymore "Cold" comments, nor live with upchuck on my feet. Taking off the stupid shirt, I wiped up most of the vomit with it, then stood up and headed for the bathroom. Let's hope their shower is less fungi-infested than ours. Our bath is fine, but bathes were more of a Sharika thing. Oh, and that he's not some kind of stalker/serial killer/peeping tom/pervert…

∞∞

_Dean_

"Oh man…"

My head _hurts_. That demon must have been a hell of a thing. (No pun intended.)

Sammy must have taken care of it; I could hear him in the shower now.

But, why had he left me on the damn floor? And why was it wet?

Washing my face was probably a good idea. Clear my thoughts and all that. Plus, brushing my teeth would be good. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

I stood up, my head spinning, and I felt as though my brain was about to slosh out my ear. Not good.

I staggered against the wall, and collected myself. Years of getting knocked around gave you a certain barrier to the pain; I could work around it.

Besides, I didn't want to look weak in front of Sammy.

I shrugged my shoulders, and rolled my neck (carefully), then headed for the bathroom.

Walking in, I didn't look at the shower. It's not one of my fantasies, seeing my brother in all his…'glory'. I headed straight for the sink, splashed my face with water, and grabbed my toothbrush. "Sam, no staying in tonight. We'll go to that pub we saw down the road – mingle with the locals a little, if you know what I'm saying." Sam always seemed to find a lot of contention with my activities in that area.

Hearing a skittering noise on the floor, I growled – "And there'll be fewer cockroaches too."

I dropped my eyes, looking for the sucker.

And found it, waving its antennae at me as though in greeting.

From right next to a white bra.

I had no idea Sammy leant that way.

I turned around slowly, my toothbrush dropping to the ground as my eyes greeted –

"My, my, Sammy. You have changed."

"OUT!"

Not much scares me. In my job, I can't afford it to.

But the naked, screaming woman in my shower, did.

∞∞

_Sharika_

After awhile of talking about everything – well, almost everything, Sam told me that he was ready to go back to his room.

So with a little help from me we headed towards it. "I enjoyed talking to you," I told him, getting ready to say goodbye as we stood in front of his door.

He scratched his head. "You sound like this is the end of a date or something." He smiled down at me.

I laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, don't call me I'll call you," I joked lamely. I instantly regretted saying that. _GET HIS EMAIL YOU IDIOT_, my mind yelled at me. Yet my inhibitions stopped me. We have only known each other a few hours, so we were practically strangers in reality, despite how deep our previous conversations. But, but he is different from anyone I've ever met before. He is funny, smart, chivalrous, not to mention good-looking and he wasn't arrogant in any way. I can connect to him. _STOP IT,_ my rational mind snapped. _He is too good for you, so don't even think like this. _

I sighed mentally, for I knew it to be true.

"I hope to see you again," he said as he turned the handle.

I nodded. "Same," I said, smiling sadly. We entered the motel room, him to sleep, and me to collect Lauren.

Suddenly a high pitched shriek pierced through the air – "OUT!!" it screamed. It took me a few seconds to register that this voice belonged to Lauren.

Dean practically flew out of the bathroom, his mouth covered in foam, his brown hair matted down. He had a white bra attached to his left shoe.

I could hear the sound of the shower running in the background.

Sam without even glancing at me asked if I wanted to leave. I nodded, and managed to choke out – "Sure… we'll, uh, come back later."

In unison we turned, left the room, and closed the door behind us.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"…come back later."

I heard my best friend's voice, even over my own screaming, and the running water of the shower.

"SHARIKA!!" I yelled, even louder then I'd previously been (if that's possible), and ran out of the shower, grabbing a towel and slinging it around me as I went. No more nakedness, please and thank you.

"Come BACK!!" I cried, ever the dramatic as I saw the door close. Even I was not crazy enough to run out into the parking lot, wearing only a towel. "This," I spat, spinning around to face Dean, "is all your fault."

He glared straight back at me. "May I remind you who started it?"

"You!" I ranted. "If you hadn't insulted me –"

"I made a joke – so sorry –"

"'Got milk' is not a –"

By now we were face to face, neither of us willing to back down. I wanted to shake him – I WAS RIGHT. But this was ridiculous. I mean, what were we even fighting about?

Even sarcastic as hell, and fighting with me over nothing, Blondie was damn hot. I couldn't help my noticing, because, you know, I mean – REALLY.

I was going to stop this now. Because...umm…because…the shouting was no doubt hurting that head of his. Which was all my fault in the first place. Or all his – whoever's!

"I'm borrowing your clothes," I said, abruptly changing the subject. "One shirt and jeans please. No fries with that."

He blinked.

Yeah, I affect people like that sometimes. Okay, okay, most of the time.

"Right," he said, and looked down at me, as though noticing my attire for the first time. I looked down too. The towel barely came half way down my thighs, when it was being held as high as it could over my breasts – which it also barely covered. If he says _anything_ – "How did I get stuck with you again?"

"Don't start," I answered, with a mental sigh of relief, and sat on one of the beds. "Clothes. Now. Then we go after Shar and Yeti Boy. Is everyone in your family scarily tall, or just you two?"

"Runs in the family." He dug around in his duffel bag. The kind you would suspect of hauling weapons. Such as guns, knives, men's unwashed clothes…

I tried not to think about it as he tossed me the jeans and coveted plaid shirt. Seriously. What is the deal with American men and those shirts? They all look like a bunch of lumberjacks.

Now I had two choices.

No underwear, or used underwear. Not happy.

"Need a bra?" Blondie asked me. "I don't have any, but Sammy – well, you never know." He grinned at me.

I shot him a look, and headed for the bathroom. There, I discovered that I did indeed need a bra. Mine was missing.

I came hurtling out of the bathroom again, towel still clutched precariously around me, to see Dean holding my bra over his head by one strap, dangling it from his fingers. He jerked it up and down, grinning at me.

"Oh. My. God. I'm going to –"

He raised it higher, along with his eyebrows. There was no way I was going to be able to reach that high without standing on a chair. And by the time I had grabbed one, he would have moved, and what would be the point of getting the damn chair if that's just going to be the result, and how did he get it in the first place, I didn't notice –

"I will give this back, if you –" Dean started, and then added an obscure sexual favor to the end. He did this, all with a supremely serious face. What kind of perverted –

"Are you insane?" I asked him furiously. He simply shrugged. I have no time for this! I needed to rejoin Sharika so I never had to see this crazy – ARRGH. What was the quickest way to deal with this problem? No bra? Or…

I decided to 'give up'. Or at least, you know, make him think that.

I sashayed over to him, wearing my sweetest smile, and dropping the towel a little, so he could ALMOST see certain areas of my anatomy. His eyes lowered from my face, and his arm drooped a little.

"So you want me to –" (I'm not saying it!!) "– do you?" I asked, making my voice all husky, and coming to a halt about two inches away from him. I ran one hand up his chest, and pulled at his leather jacket so he was leaning down towards me. My other hand, I cupped behind his neck, after tucking one corner into the rest so it would stay up at least for a little while. I smiled at him, injecting as much suggestiveness as I could into it without cracking up.

He smiled back down at me, and I tried to ignore it, as it produced –

Swift as lightning I hooked my foot around his ankles and kicked his legs out from under him. Unsuspecting as he was (which is quite strange, I think), he fell heavily, and I stood on his arm, bent down and grabbed my bra.

"How do you like that, bitch?" I asked, and winked at him. Hopefully he would have no hard feelings, considering how abusive I've been to him in the short time we've known each other. I headed once again for the bathroom.

∞∞

_Sam_

As disturbing as that…scene was, it gave me a second chance to get to know more about Sharika, for that I was glad. But then again, I knew that I'd have another chance, because of the vision I had before.

_Flashback_

"_Welcome. Can you get up?" Sharika asked me in a concerned voice._

"_Yeah," I answered. I felt totally fine. I was just about to get up when an image just flew into my mind. There were two figures moving, one large, and one small. I focused on the image so I might be able to see it clearer. _

_After awhile I could make out whom the figures were, me and Sharika. She was lying next to me, in bed! The white covers were pulled up to her neck; I could tell that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Her hair was tussled and she was breathing heavily, as if she had just finished running a ten mile run. To the left of her I lay in the same condition. _

_She smiled and said something incoherent; I couldn't hear any audio in this vision. I replied and she laughed. I grinned as my eyes looked her over. My smile changed to a more mischievous one. _

_Sharika stopped laughing and pouted her lips. Her right hand worked its way up my bare chest, over my shoulder, across my jaw line to my forehead where she removed a few strands of hair which were stuck there. _

_I caught her small, slender hand in my much larger one, looking down at our intertwined fingers. Then I noticed something small, but something that will no doubt affect my life in a major way. We both had wedding rings on! As quickly as the vision came it left. _

_I felt normal after that, almost as if the vision never actually came to me. I stood up quickly, hoping that Sharika didn't notice anything different in my behavior._

_Another image hit me, like a tonne of bricks. Sharika and I were standing next to each other. We were both wearing traditional Indian clothes. We were smiling and dancing. There was a sea of faces surrounding us as we, actually I, danced clumsily. _

_Everyone around us was cheering and laughing. It looked to me like it was a festival dedicated to Sharika and me. _

_After the vision left I left light headed. I staggered and started to fall sideways._

_Flashback End_

"That was…" she trailed off.

"Yeah," I agreed as I sat on the couch beside her.

"Did you notice the particular item of _clothing_, attached to your brother's shoe?" she asked me, staring blankly ahead of her.

"Yeah," I repeated in the same tone as before.

"You know what we should have done?" she turned to her side; her head resting on her hand, her arm was perpendicular to the back of the couch. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I shook my head, finding the way she was looking at me invigorating. "We should have…" her eyes trailed lower for awhile then quickly came back up. "Your shirt it wet," she told me matter-of-factly.

I instantly looked down at my shirt only to realize that she was correct. "Oh man, I didn't even notice that!" I exclaimed.

"Well since we won't be returning to your room anytime soon, why don't you just wear something of mine?" she suggested.

She got up and gave me a 'are you coming' look.

I responded with an unsure face. "Wear women's clothing? I don't really find that idea appealing."

"Oh come on," I could see that her mouth was fighting to stifle her smile, probably because she was thinking about me wearing an article of her clothing. "It's either that, or you go shirtless, or you continue to wear your wet shirt and get a bad cold tomorrow. I prefer option number one seeing how option number two can lead to certain complications, if you know what I mean, and option number three can lead you to catch pneumonia and then you would become a vegetable and I would feel guilty for the rest of my life. So please, for my peace of mind, can you go with option one?"

"But…"

"And," she interrupted me, "don't say that you'll feel uncomfortable wearing my sweater because you have been wearing that shirt all this time without even noticing. You won't even notice the sweater after awhile."

Damn, she was partially right. I didn't notice that wet shirt, but I didn't notice because I was with Sharika – she occupied all of my attention. And then the premonitions had distracted me even further. But I couldn't tell her that, at least not yet. We hardly knew each other.

Without even needing to weigh my options I gave in. Hopefully, Dean would be too 'preoccupied' to come here until my own shirt had dried.

I reluctantly nodded and got up to follow her, wondering if this was how it was going to be for the rest of my life. Would her logic always eventually coerce me into doing whatever she wished me to?

She smiled and began to make her way to her bedroom. I strode in after her.

By the time I had entered the room she had already laid out a red sweater, neatly folded on one of the beds, and was drinking water from a purple cup. Why was she –

"I like this color," she said almost as if she read my mind. "And running away from…um…your room made me thirsty."

I unbuttoned my damp shirt and took it off, holding it up, as I didn't know where to drop it. I looked up to ask her, only to find her facing the wall, calmly sipping water from that purple cup.

"Where do I put the shirt?" I asked the back of her head.

"On Lauren's bed," she replied, her voice sounding strained. "That's the one on the other side of the room."

I threw it across the room; it landed perfectly in the middle of the bed, and then I picked up the sweater, pulled it over my head and shoved my head and arms through its holes.

"I'm done," I informed her.

She turned to face me and immediately began to double over in laughter.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

She couldn't answer; her shoulders were shaking, causing her arms to shake as well and therefore the cup. This was probably not the best time to notice how cute her laugh was.

"Shari–" I started to warn her, but it was too late.

The cup of water fell from her loose grasp and landed in a perfect circle on her shirt.

She didn't notice and continued to laugh.

Still puzzled by her behavior, I searched for a mirror. Found it – it stood against the wall across from the two beds. I headed towards it as Sharika fell to the floor, still laughing.

When I looked in the mirror I had finally understood what had caused her laughter.

The sweater she gave me ended half way on my torso. It stopped just above my ribcage. The sleeves came up to my elbow. I looked like a total transvestite!

Her laughter died down finally, and after hearing a soft 'damn' escape her lips I knew that she'd realized she'd wet her shirt.

I heard her get up and shuffle over to a suitcase placed in the corner of the room. Tearing my eyes away from the horrific image reflected in the mirror, I glanced over at her. She unzipped a suitcase, taking out a short sleeve, cotton white, button up shirt.

"Turn around please," she requested.

I obliged.

I could hear the scuffle of her taking off the wet shirt.

_DON'T!_ My mind ordered me, but my body didn't listen. My head turned slightly, as if on its own accord; I could now see her through the corner of my eye.

She dropped the wet shirt in a heap on the floor at the base of her feet. My eyes shifted their gaze and they went up her legs to the bare of her back as if they were being pulled by a magnetic force. Not that I was complaining.

_Black bra_, I noted, unconsciously smiling.

She put on the white shirt and I quickly resumed the position I was previously in, as though I hadn't been staring.

"Done," she said, and I turned around again. She seemed totally oblivious to my stiff posture.

Suddenly my stomach made a grumbling noise, breaking the silence. What a time to get hungry!

"We have Mac n' Cheese in the kitchen," she told me after she understood where the sound had come from.

"I'm game," I responded, trying to hide my embarrassment.

We walked towards the kitchen.

"I wonder what they are up to," Sharika wondered aloud, then shook her head quickly, as though trying to dislodge images from it. The same ones I was trying not to imagine, no doubt.

"No idea. Knowing him, he's probably bribing her to service him with _special favors_," I joked. I really shouldn't have left that poor girl with Dean.

She smiled slightly.

"The boxes are on the top shelf," she said, pointing at it.

I realized that she was asking me to get it, and nodded. I opened the cupboard as Sharika filled a pot with water.

There were two flavors there, chicken and cheese. I preferred cheese, but decided to ask Sharika what she wanted. _It's her food after all_, I thought, grabbing the two boxes and turning around.

She was in front of me trying to get to the stove. Still unsteady from the bump on my head, I stumbled into her. She fell backwards, letting go of the pot of water in the process.

My instincts came into play as my hand shot out to stop her fall. I missed her arm by a few inches, but managed to grasp her shirt lapel. This action caused the buttons on her shirt to rip and clatter all over the floor.

She landed with a loud thud onto the tiles. I winced at the bang the pot made when it connected soon after.

I bent down behind the counter to help her up, reaching out my hand. With one hand cradling the to-be bruise on her head and the other holding onto my offered hand, she came up to her knees with my help.

"Hello?" a light voice sounded from the entrance.

∞∞

_Lauren_

The shirt hung around me like so much loose, plaid elephant skin, and ended at my knees. The jeans… they were even worse. I'd have to hitch them up every few seconds, so they wouldn't fall to the floor. Plus, the legs puddled around my feet. Seeing as how I was a 5.5-er, and he was 6 feet tall, it was obvious from the start we'd probably have some problems in that regard.

I love tall men. Really, I do. Shorter guys, and guys the same height as I am don't do it for me. But wearing their clothes…it's going too far.

"Blondie!" I called, coming out of the bathroom. "You ready or what?

"Blondie?" he asked, as he appeared, giving me a questioning look. "I'm not blonde."

"Are too." He was, I had decided, and nothing was going to change my mind. I mean, he wasn't _that_ blonde, he just felt like a person who should be blonde, and in certain lights I'm sure he would look it.

"You're blonder than I am."

"I'm not blonde! I'm brunette! Okay, okay… dirty blonde. Ish."

He opened his mouth – "Don't start." I warned. "Let's just go."

He rolled his eyes. I suppose he was getting tired of my curbing his fun all the time. I'd better let him express himself before he explodes.

"What were you going to say?" I asked, spinning around.

"When?"

"Just now."

"I wasn't saying anything."

"No, _before_."

"You're blonder than I am?"

"I give up on you."

"All I was going to say is dirty blonde can be taken many ways." He gave me that disarming smile again. Where does he get that heat from? _Damn._

Okay, let's hide those kinds of thoughts now, and leave them for people I have not decided to hate for all eternity. I rolled my eyes at him, and opened the door. "Out," I said simply.

"Yes ma'am."

"Ha ha."

Scrap the eternal hate – I was having almost as much fun sparring with Dean as I did with Sharika – maybe more. Usually I'm shocking Shar, or explaining myself. Or she's making me crack up at something I otherwise never would have found funny. With Blondie, he was just as cynical/sarcastic/crazy as I was. At least it was interesting. I mean, I could have been stuck with Sam. No offence to him. I mean, he seemed nice… too nice. I would probably die of boredom, and people would find my carcass in the Mermaid Motel years later, and cry for Lauren McMartin, dead before her time all because fate placed her with the wrong brother…

"So, you never told us what you were doing in Iowa."

Not so blonde after all. "Yeah, we're on a road trip. Traveling the _fascinating_ land of America. Surprisingly unlike the movies."

"As are you."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"Well, according to our movies, you should be spouting 'mate', 'dunny' and 'g'day' every few minutes. Or riding a kangaroo."

I had to laugh. "A common misconception. We leave our kangaroos at home."

"Ah. I had wondered where it was."

I grinned at him, shaking my head.

"Amazing," he said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the road and staring at me.

"What is?" I asked, still half smiling, eyebrows raised.

"You do smile."

"No, I don't. You're hallucinating." I glanced around. "Look, we're here."

"Here?"

"You know, room 15… currently housing Sharika and your brother, doing God knows what to each other, oh I do not want to think about it, and let's just open the door." I was just kidding. I trust Sharika not to be doing something raunchy in the kitchen, it's more my forte than hers. Ah ha ha. The very idea of – well, it was ridiculous.

"Right."

"Right." I opened the door.

AN: Kind of forgot to add this in the last chapter, but it's in the summary: Peace7 and I am writing this story, and have been doing so equally the entire way. Just so you know, and so does she, I couldn't do it without her.


	3. Don't Be Shy Baby, You Know You Want To

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

L: Don't say a word.

S: That has got to be _the _worst line ever.

L: Compared to you, I am above reproach.

S: _That_ was an accident.

L: Yeah, sure.

S: It was. And why were you babbling on about chickens, backwards?

L: SHH! Let then read it for themselves.

S: Okay, enjoy.

∞∞

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Don't Be Shy Baby, You Know You Want To**

_Gonna prove me wrong, yeah_

_Gonna prove me right_

_You better make your mind up_

_Or it's gonna be tonight_

_Baby, baby, baby, gonna light your fuse_

_You ain't got nothin', nothin' to lose…_

Both Feet In The Water – Bad Company

_Lauren_

"Hello?"

The room looked totally deserted, empty. I walked in, trying not to remember another room, just like this one. Where –

Sam's head appeared from behind the kitchen counter. "Where's –" I started to ask, and Shar's head followed. Her hair was all tousled and…damp? What the –

The pair stood up and I choked on my breath.

_Sam was wearing one of Sharika's sweaters, and Sharika's shirt was torn open down the front to reveal – _well, everything.

"Lauren!" (Sharika.)

"Sharika!?" (Me.)

"Sam!?" (Dean.)

"Dean!" (Sam.) … It was all very confusing. "This isn't –" Sam started, looking as guilty as hell.

"Shut it!" I interrupted, and grabbed Sharika, pulling her towards the bathroom. As we passed Sam I noticed that his face was the same color as his shirt… Sharika's shirt… THE SHIRT – OH MY GOD! I had to get her away from these – these _perverted_ –

"Lauren –"

"I don't want to hear it!" I shouted, and slammed the bathroom door closed. And locked it. "You and he – and the sweater!! Sharika! I know you're gullible, but when a guy wants to wear your clothes, then rip off yours, you GET OUT OF – oh, just a sec," I reopened the door and warned Dean – "NOT A WORD!!" Then I shut it and continued my rant. "– THERE!! On the floor, in the kitchen – WITH MACARONI AND CHEESE!?! I saw the packets! What kind of strange, twisted things he was going to do with those, I don't WANT to know! I leave you for ten minutes!!! And the shower, and the roaches and the plaid shirts!! They all look like a bunch of lumberjacks, I look like a dwarf lumberjack, and there is no damn wood to chop! And vomit, and toothbrushes, and naked, and buttons, and its all too much like the time when we went to my cousin's and he made us chase the chickens and tried to feel you up, except that those two don't look like chickens and the macaroni and cheese is the closest we're getting to any!" I sat on the toilet and yelled into my hands, "And I don't even want chickens! What I do want is for you to not be attacked by a supposedly 'normal' human as well as all the other things we've been through since we came to this stupid country!" My rants are very confusing. I get points from everywhere, random things to add to my rant, and end up forgetting what I was originally talking about.

"There, there Lauren," Sharika said awkwardly, and patted me on the back. She was never good with the whole concept of hugging and giving comfort to your friends and the general affectionate area. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? Don't worry about it!?! Okay, I won't." I stood up, brushing hair out of my eyes. This was no time for a break down. Or a self-pity session. "Let's get rid of those Peeping Tom/Transvestites."

"Lauren, Sam and I didn't –"

"I know, we – I mean, _Dean and_ _I _showed up just in time." I was not going to start grouping us together in coupledom. 'WE'. Tsss. No thanks. I snorted, and Sharika looked at me in alarm. (I'm used to such looks. I get them a lot.) "Never mind," I said unlocking the door. "It's stupid."

The guys stood up as we re-entered the room. "You and you –" I said, pointing my finger at Sam and Dean. "Leave _now_."

_Chickens_, Dean mouthed at me. My eyes widened.

"Your brother's a transvestite," I stated, and glared down my nose at him. (It's not impossible, even though he's WA-AAAAY taller than me. I was taught well.)

"It's his choice," Dean said comfortably. "I can support HIM –" and here, he gave me a superior look, flicking his eyes in Sharika's direction – "– in his decisions."

"Are you saying I don't support Sharika!?!" Was he manipulating me? It would not work!! I supported Sharika in all her decisions! Well, most of them. Unless they were dumb.

"Now, why would I say that? I'm only the perverted brother."

My mouth opened, but my brain didn't support it as it usually did. My finger wavered in the air in front of Dean, then I swung it around to point at Sam. "Shut up! You're wearing a girl's shirt!"

I stormed into the kitchen, dragging my pride along behind me.

"Men!" I muttered angrily over the wet puddle on the floor. How did THAT get there? "Think they have all the answers!" I banged the pots around that Shar and her boy toy had left out before they got distracted, and turned the element off. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"Lauren –" I let out a shriek and spun around, to see Sharika grinning at me. "Sorry. Anyway, those two can't leave now."

"Why not?" I asked mutinously. Then I threw myself at her, and wrapped my arms around her neck, crying out loudly so Dean would be sure to hear – "Sharika you can shag whomever you want! You could be a prostitute on the street if that's what it takes to make you happy! I will support you no matter what!" (Blondie had made me feel like a bad friend. I didn't want Sharika to think that I didn't want her to be happy, or that I disapproved of Sam + sex, or whatever, I just didn't want her to get hurt!)

"Lauren, I don't want to be a prostitute."

"Oh, thank god," I said, releasing my stranglehold. "It would have been SO awkward. Now, tell me, why can't Blondie leave and never come back?"

"Blondie?"

"Dean."

"Dean's not blonde, he's brunette."

"He's so blonde."

"No, he isn't."

"Yes, he is."

"No, he _isn't_."

"Yes, he _is_."

"No!"  
"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"What's going on?" Sam entered the kitchen area. And I finally noticed – he had a VERY nice stomach. Too bad I was still fighting with Shar, otherwise I could have taken time out to perve. Sad, sad, sad.

"NO!"

"YES!"  
"Dean's brunette, isn't he?" Sharika asked Sam abruptly, whirling to face him with the tattered remains of her shirt flapping everywhere. I knew he'd agree with whatever she said, faced with THAT particular sight. MEN.

"No, he's blonde! And don't involve your – whatever he is – in this!"

"He isn't blonde Lauren!"

"He _feels_ like a blonde person!"

Sharika opened her mouth, then closed it, exasperated. "Stuff it," she said, and walked back into the lounge room.

I knew this meant that she just couldn't be bothered fighting with me anymore, but hey, it was still a victory. WHEE!!

I followed her, and said yet again, "Leave now, you two." Now, before I do something crazy. Like, call the police, or pelt them with Macaroni and Cheese, or kiss D–

Anchovies. ANCHOVIES, NOTHING AND ESPECIALLY NO ONE ELSE.

I hate anchovies. They are the Devil's Spawn disguised as small fish.

"We can't sleep in our room," Dean said, giving me a look, like I was an imbecile. (I get that look a lot too…)

"Why not?" I asked, straining to be polite so they could leave without provoking me into another argument that I might lose. I don't like to lose.

"It smells of vomit. All through it."

"Hey, it's your vomit, deal with it."

"Sam can stay here, the lounge is free." Sharika said suddenly, then blushed slightly. No one else would have noticed except me, because of her dark skin, and I was more used to her expressions, etcetera. Wait… BLUSHING??? SHARIKA???

"I'm not leaving my brother alone with you two," Dean said, looking horrified at the very thought.

"Why not?" Sam asked. "I don't want to sleep in a room that smells like your stomach's contents, dude."

"He doesn't trust us –" I offered in a stage whisper.

"I'm staying!" Dean said.

"Fine, but you two will have to share the couch," Sharika said, giving in to Dean's demand.

"Thanks…" Sam said, looking at her, and then he twisted his head away so quickly that it looked like it was going to snap off. Whee, decapitated bodies on the floor. Yet another thing to complain about to management. Not that I would, service people scare me. No, I'm serious; I can't even order food with out getting jittery.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam in confusion, then glanced at Shar. And didn't look away. Eh…?

Sam cuffed his brother over the head. "Oh, right," Dean said, and joined Sam in staring at the ceiling.

"Oh…" I said, looking at Shar. "I get it!"

Sharika, ever so sadly, did not.

So, why were they avoiding looking at her?

Because she was practically half naked. How could she not have noticed something like that?

I grabbed Sharika's arm and towed her into the bedroom, shouting after me, "Fine, you can stay!"

∞∞

_Dean_

The door closed on the girls for the second time tonight. The only words spoken between us the first time they'd disappeared were, "Dude, maybe if you changed your shirt you'd get laid more often," from me, and a – "Bite me," from Sam, just before Lauren shouted at us not to say anything.

Seriously though, maybe this Sharika chick would be good for him. Sammy tends to be the nerd of our team, especially since Hudson Valley, and Sarah Bleak. Unless he exchanged more than saliva and chick-flick moments with her, it was time to move on.

He'd taken the first step by actually agreeing to come with me to hit on the two of them at the pub – normally, he'd give me a disgusted look and go back to his laptop.

From what I knew of Sammy's habits with chicks, these two connected, otherwise he already would have left her, and everyone would be back in their own rooms.

"Dean," Sam whispered to me urgently.

"What Samantha?" I asked, highly amused by what he was wearing.

"Dude, I had another premonition!"

"What?" I changed instantly into business mode. "What did you see?"

"It was about them," he said, gesturing to the door as he walked over to the couch and sat down.

"Are they demons?" I asked, reaching for the gun at the back of my waistband. It wouldn't be the first time demons had tried such a thing, possessing humans then trying to get close to us, into our lives. We always got those sons of bitches before they got too close though.

"What? No," he replied, giving me a look that made me retract my hand.

"Then what?" I asked, and came to sit beside him.

"It was about Sharika… in my premonition I was – Dean, I was marrying her."

"Whoa…" I commented, staring in surprise at the floor. "I tried to hit on my future sister in law… nice story for the grandkids. When did this happen?" And _why_?

"When I first woke up, after the bar. I had two premonitions – like she _gave_ them to me or something. There was one of our wedding day." Sam was looking about as stunned as I felt.

"And the other one?"

"You don't need to know."

"Come on Sammy, I'm your brother and these vision things affect both of us. It's not like you two were in bed or anything." I grinned at him.

Sam stared at the floor, as I had done when I was considering the flirting with Sharika thing.

Oh… "So it is like that, is it?"

"Never mind that – I mean, how am I supposed to act around her? She's my future wife!" (This whole conversation was exchanged in hissed whispers, so I the girls wouldn't hear.)

I gave him a suggestive look. Then, as he opened his mouth, I interrupted. "Sorry, I can't think about anything seriously with you wearing that thing." I stared at the red sweater pointedly.

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled it off. "Now concentrate, man. I mean, seriously –"

"How old did you two look? Could you tell?"

"We didn't look any different. Which could mean anything from months to years."

The door to the bedroom opened, and I heard muffled cries of "OH MY GOD, NO, NO, NO!!"

"She okay?" I asked Sharika in alarm.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I changed into my yellow shirt as Lauren paced around the room. I would have to do a lot of laundry after today, I always did my own laundry because no one else could do it the way I wanted it, and I also have to throw out my white shirt…unless I could coerce Lauren into sewing it up for me. Despite her independent and feminist outlook on life, she was very good at what she called 'house-wifely' tasks. But I wouldn't ask right now. By the look on her face, I could tell that she was agitated.

"You're attracted to Dean," I stated as I sat cross leggedly on my bed, having figured it out some time ago.

_Here we go again…_

"NO!" she yelled. She threw herself across the width of her bed, landing on top of Sam's wet shirt. She started to mutter. An incoherent stream of thought left her mouth. After a few seconds she stopped, calmly stretching out her arm to grab a big pillow. Then she lifted the pillow and placed it on top of her head. She then resumed to her incoherent ranting, this time screaming.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO FUCKEN WAY," she muffled her screams through the pillow. "OH MY GOD!" Lauren never realizes these things about herself and her feelings, or accepts them, until ages after I tell her – or try to anyway. Or she does, way before I do, and then denies it to everyone involved, vehemently, if they ask her about it.

Already having had the unfortunate luck of witnessing such incidents before, I left the room before anymore cursing ensued.

"She okay?" Dean asked, a look of concern flickering briefly across his face. I saw that he and Sam were in an engrossing conversation before I interrupted them. I also noted that Sam had taken off my sweater, most probably to end Dean's teasing.

"To be frank…" I stopped myself from saying 'she is, she just throws fits like this every once in awhile due to certain conditions', an idea formed in my head. Instead I replied "I have no clue, maybe you should go in and check on her."

Maybe this would make her accept it, and stop screaming. If there is one thing Lauren can't resist, it's a bad boy being sweet. At least, that's what she's told me.

Dean nodded seriously and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I felt Sharika's weight settle next to me on the bed. Parts of me were dangling off it, and I didn't feel that secure, her weight bouncing me up and down. When had she gotten so heavy anyway? The thoughts in my head were already very garbled; they tumbled around inside my mouth, then fell out of it onto the pillow pressed against my face. "Nead, nead, dena, that person, oh you know what I mean! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? Shakira! The movies – it's like the movies, with the popcorn, and snekcihc – I mean the shickens – the CHICKENS, and that guy who was perving on you, and, and I need – I NEAD, Oh My God, and it's all tumbling, it's all TUMBLING and FALLING on me!! Sharika it's FALLING ON ME! And the Mas – I mean the boy-toy – I mean SAM and Dean…" I gulped in a breath. Then quite calmly I stated, "By the way, everyone can see your black bra." I sighed into the poor pillow, and the words started to flood out again, in my high-pitched, REALLY FAST rant voice. "But it's not ok, because of the men at the pub – the men at the pub! – and WET SHIRT – and I didn't even get my beer!! And the story – and it's all too much because of that yellow dish!! And SHARIKA!!" I screamed, sitting up with my face all squished together and my eyes closed – "I'M NOT GIVING HIM MY VIRGINITY!!"

"Okay…" said a very amused male voice next to my ear. "A, It looks like you've wet your bed in all your excitement, B, you cannot be a virgin, the way you act, and C, is your bra size."

"A," I said, opening my eyes, and shaking hair back from my face as though absolutely nothing was wrong, and I didn't want to jump him right there, when Sharika and Sam were in the next room. What was he doing in here, on my bed, being all _nice_?? "I did not wet the bed, it's your brother's stupid wet shirt –" I threw said shirt at his head and he plucked it out of the air just in front of his face. "B, I may or may not be a virgin. YOU will never have the opportunity to find out. C, how the hell do you – oh… right. You stole my bra." I started cracking up, remembering the way I'd retrieved it. "I can't believe you fell for that –" I groaned, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. I clutched my stomach and fell back on the bed again. How stupid, or – or what? – would you have to be to fall for that? He came back with me this time, leaning on one elbow and watching me laugh. As soon as I managed to breathe properly, I asked, "What?" You can't just _watch_ a person laugh, it's creepy, just like you can't watch a person eat, 'cause it ruins the whole eating experience and you know as soon as you leave they'll eat your food and what is the point in buying food that you're not going to eat, you might as well throw a glass of water in your food so no one can have it.

"Nothing," he muttered, and lied back completely, hands behind his head. I watched him, then realised my face was wet. Laughing like that – I haven't. Not since – not since –

There were tissues behind him on the side table. I leant forwards and reached behind his head. As my fingers grazed the softness of the tissue, I looked down, and realized how close our faces were. My breath caught.

His eyes were beautiful. Not as blatantly sexy as Sam's, more subtle, drawing you into their hazel-green depths. Drawing me in…

I grabbed the tissue and shoved it into his face. "Tissue?" I asked, my voice all squeaky. (Yeah… my voice goes SQUEAKY at the peak of desire?! I hope not. So uncool. Wait!! I WASN'T – desire – no – ARRGH!!)

"No," he said, pushing my hand away. I jumped off the bed, backing up and trying to think of something to say that would relieve the tension. Anything, anything, oh god… For the second time in his company, words failed me. "You."

And suddenly my back thudded against the wall, my hands clutching his hair, his body against mine and our lips were –

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Still hungry?" I asked Sam after I explained to him that Lauren was going into one of her denial spirals.

He shook his head. I suppose it really wasn't the time to be eating.

"Why did you take of my sweater?" I asked just to make conversation. "Dean?"

"You know it," he said. He leaned back on the recliner he was sitting on, giving me an embarrassed smile. "He tried to give me a modified version of 'The Talk'. He suddenly felt the need to give me some of his _brotherly wisdom._"

I giggled. I went up to the living room and sat on the chair directly across from him.

His current sitting position was offering me a clear view of his perfectly sculpted chest.

_Abs_, I thought to myself. _Almost better then Ryan Reynolds chest. _"Believe me; nothing can top the McMartin experience."

We fell into a comfortable silence.

"Hey," I broke the tranquility when I noticed a tattered old diary on the coffee table. "What's this?" I opened the diary before he could answer.

"Nothing!" he almost yelled, he practically jumped across the room in his rush to extract the diary out of my hand. He reached me in a matter of milliseconds and yanked the book out of my grasp. But it was too late, I had already seen enough.

There was a picture of Him, the demon that kidnapped my, our best friends, thus breaking the core four apart. Underneath the drawing were times and dates, co-ordinates and a small picture of a large Victorian house.

I HATED that BASTARD! I knew why he had taken them, Joyee and Fiona – he wanted to use them as bait to lure Lauren and I to him, or to be more specific me, and when that happens he could steal my powers. My powers of telekinesis, premonition and levitation, also I could make anything, a lampshade to a skyscraper, combust without so much as batting an eye. Hopefully he doesn't know about Lauren's power of empathy, because if he did he'd be after her, and if he was…I couldn't even handle the possibility, I'm not a strong enough person.

All four of us were exchange students to different universities. We had all lived in a house off campus, which we rented from the universities.

_Flashback_

"_Sharika remember!" Lauren said for the sixteenth time that day. I should know, I've actually been counting._

"_Look, if you really want kitchuri tonight and are afraid that I'll forget, why don't you just come with me?" I replied back the sixteenth time as I was tying up the shoelaces to my sneakers._

"_No, no, I know that you'll remember. Anyways the cute coffee guy is coming soon!" she exclaimed._

_I mentally gave her my 'look', one that always makes her feel 'like a dufus', she had told me once. I knew that she wasn't staying because of that, she was just too lazy to accompany me. _

"_Don't give me that look!" she shouted from the living room where she was currently curled up in the couch reading yet another fantasy novel._

"_LAUREN!" Joyee and Fiona cried out in unison._

"_Don't yell so loudly," Fiona complained, Joyee nodded along side her._

"_Tell that to Sharika," Lauren retorted, throwing a pillow at them, without even looking up. It thudded against the wall behind them as they ducked. If she broke something again – _

"_She wasn't the one yelling," Fiona said._

"_It was her fault though!"_

"_You are such a lazyass," Joyee commented._

_I smiled as I put on my jacket. This was us, typical. Although it was the same thing over and over, I enjoyed it. I wouldn't trade it for the world. It was my life and I loved it._

_I made sure I had my mobile in my pocket, (a habit my extremely overprotective father had instilled in me) and looked at the clock. It was around eight. I always did the grocery shopping at night because there was less crowds there._

"_I'm going with you," Lauren told me, suddenly appearing behind me. She was fully dressed, complete with a scarf around her neck._

"_Fine, do what you want," I replied. I opened the door and walked out, leaving it open for Lauren to pass through._

_She called back as she walked out. "Fiona, flirt with the coffee house guy for me. And when I come back tell me about it, so I can pretend that I was doing it." She winked at me, closing the door behind us. _

∞∞

_One hour later a happy Lauren pranced through the door singing "Kitchuri!". An extremely tired me followed. Going out with Lauren was like looking after a small child that's on a sugar high. _

_As soon as I entered the house I could tell something was wrong. The atmosphere felt empty. Lauren suddenly stopped singing. She dropped her bags on the floor and ran to the kitchen, living room, bedrooms, every single room and backyard yelling for Joyee and Fiona._

_My stomach churned. 'Where – what – how…'_

_I slowly made my way into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs around the table there. "GUYS ANSWER ME! IT'S NOT FUNNY!" I heard Laurens panicky voice yell in the background._

_I looked up, feeling numb and noticed something different. There was an extra note on the fridge. I walked up to it, my vision centering on that note, everything else going black, and removed the magnet holding it. I read the note with grim eyes. My bad feeling was confirmed; it was a message for me._

"_Sharika," Lauren said as she came into the kitchen. I turned and looked at her, she had tears coming out the corners of her eyes, and her shoulders were shaking. How could I tell her? How could I tell her that this was all my fault? That our best friends were taken because of my stupid powers… "I can't feel them; I can't feel them at all."_

_End of Flashback_

"You're a hunter?" I asked him, although I already knew the answer to that.

He looked stunned, and then he nodded. "How do you know…" he trailed off.

"He, the demon I mean, he took something very precious from me," I answered softly.

He opened the journal to the page I saw. His eyes intensified as he looked up at me from the pages. "Me too," he said, in an almost whisper. I looked up at him and we exchanged brave smiles, almost as if we both knew what was going to happen in the future.

THUD

Sam and I turned our heads as one towards the bedroom where the sound originated from. We glanced at each other again, reading each other's faces; we were wondering what was going on, and if either one of us should enter the room to intervene.

"It sounds like Dean has given in to his primal instincts," Sam's voice commented behind me.

"I doubt it's only Dean." There was a long pause as we both stared at the seemingly innocent white door. Did I really have to go in there? "We'd better go check, in case something's gone wrong."

He nodded. Neither of us moved a muscle closer to the other room.

"In case it's a demon," Sam added.

_Doubtful_, I thought to myself. There would have been gunshots from Lauren's gun and screaming from her mouth by now, if it was a demon. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time that a demon knocked her out…meaning that a demon appeared out of no where and she knocked herself out in her rush to get the gun.

We looked at each other, communicating by our facial expressions.

"Let's go," I finally decided. I headed towards the room, Sam's footsteps followed me.

With a cautious and reluctant hand, I grasped the metal handle and turned it, I then opened the door slowly.

I simply stared, mouth agape at the scene before us.

Lauren was pressed against the wall by Dean, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Her hands were gripping his hair, holding his head right where it was, and his hands were on her hips, holding them against him, and lifting her slightly off the ground.

"Damn, I owe you ten bucks," Sam whispered to me. We'd made a joke bet earlier, about whether or not Lauren and Dean would – well…

He owed me ten bucks.

∞∞

_Lauren_

In the midst of Dean and my, er… activities, I heard loudly and clearly, "Damn, I owe you ten bucks."

Ten…bucks…? (My mind was very preoccupied.)

I opened my eyes to see Sharika and Sam in the doorway, staring at us. Sharika looked horrified, as I had when finding her and Yeti Boy. It's really not something you want to find your best friend doing, is it? Sam however, just looked as though he'd been expecting something like this to happen.

Okay… I removed my hands from Dean's hair and pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him to notice too. It didn't work – his shoulders were humongous, and, well, he was just too…involved.

I managed to jerk my face away, bringing some distance between our mouths long enough to say – "Stop."

All this resulted in though, was Blondie kissing my neck and saying, "Don't be shy baby, you know you want to." And then he went back to kissing my mouth. I didn't resist, due to my supreme shock at such a line. Congratulations Dean, you have won the Cheesiest Line Ever Award!!

I head butted him. This at least encouraged the response I had been looking for – he let go. But seriously. Talk about hard-headed!!!

"Sharika, tell me you weren't betting on me," I managed to choke out, having regained breathing capabilities as soon as Dean had let go of my…of my body.

"Dean was still clutching his head, as was I, but he had a confused expression on his face. "Sharika?" he muttered, turning around.

Finally he noticed the stupefied people in the doorway. The four of us simply stared at each other for a long time.

"So…how long have you two been there?" Dean asked, seeming completely unconcerned. But I could feel how much he wished them gone, so we could, that is, _continue_. Hem.

"Oh, don't be shy…" Sharika started to say, but ended up laughing so hard that she had to clutch Sam's arm to keep standing.

Sam shook his head at Dean. "Dude, where the hell did you come up with that line? It's ten times worse than anything else you possibly could have said."

"Sammy, don't you want to scamper away and make Mac 'N' Cheese? Nowhere near here?" Dean hinted heavily.

"I want Macaroni and Cheese!" I garbled out, and shot out of the bedroom as fast as humanely possible. It was getting really hard to control his urges. REALLY HARD. Especially since they weren't his alone.

"Hey!" I said, too loudly, and far too jovial. "What's this?" I picked up an old tattered diary from the counter.

"Don't open it!" Dean shouted, looking horrified, and racing towards me. "It's – it's my diary. It has personal thoughts and feelings in it."

This of course, only made my desire to look inside even greater. The book fell open in my hands, and I stared at the pages it revealed. And sat in one of the chairs next to the counter, my legs simply giving way. It…

All I could think about now was –

"Lauren?" Sharika asked, coming to stand next to me, and placing one hand on my shoulder.

"They're hunters too, huh?" I couldn't peel my eyes away from the journal. "Compared to them, we are like two month old fetuses in supernatural crap."

"Nice analogy Lauren."

"I thought so."

Dean was staring at us, but Sam looked supremely at ease. "How do you –"

"They're after our demon Dean," Sam said, and they gave each other this indescribable look. Anyone want to fill me in here?

"Sam and I were discussing it before – before _certain incidents_, and we should all get it out in the open soon. But not right now. I'm tired from dragging _someone's_ weight around for half an hour." Sharika tugged me towards the bedroom, which was a good thing, because Dean was making me want to jump him, and Sam was feeling all conflicted. Or was it vice versa? I can never tell where the stupid feelings are coming from.

So, I escaped Sharika and managed to lunge into the bedroom instead of at the boys. "SHARIKA ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?" I yelled, holding onto the bed with both hands. Whoever's desire this was – I WAS GOING TO KICK THEM!!

"Goodnight," Sharika said politely to the guys, and closed the door.

∞∞

AN: Review, damn you, review. Peace7 is on my back about it, constantly.


	4. Damn, So Hot But A Lesbian

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

Lozz: Yay! This chapter, the truth comes out!

Shar: Yes, and you jump –

Lozz: (loudly) On a jumping castle! Because I love jumping castles! (whispers covertly to Sharika) Now who's spilling secrets?

Shar: Well, it's not exactly a secret after you –

Lozz: Read and review! Oh, and by the way…I hate my name. I am the only one with middle name(s) in the whole group!! Damn, stupid, non-middle-name-type people…

Shar: At least your name doesn't mean 'bright lamp'.

Lozz: Does your last name mean 'son of Martin'? I think not. Therefore, you have nothing to complain about. And what the hell? 'Victory and poetic genius'? I'd like to show the people who made this stupid name dictionary where to stick their victory and poetic genius, and let me tell _you_ –

Shar: (grabbing name dictionary from Lauren and flipping to the S's) At least your name is _in_ here.

Lozz: (sighs) On with the story, before she starts obsessing. Please.

Shar: I mean, just because Sharika is a unique, original name –

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Damn, So Hot But A Lesbian**

_There's someone around me just a step behind_

_It's kinda scary, the shape I'm in,_

_The walls are shakin' and they're closing in_

_Too fast or a bit too slow_

_I'm paranoid of people and it's starting to show…_

Gotta Get Away – The Offspring

_Sharika_

I opened my eyes, everything was blurry. I rubbed my eyes with my hands and then looked again. My vision was clear this time. I swung both legs off the bed and onto the floor, feeling not in the least bit tired.

I glanced over to the other side of the room, Lauren was curled up in the middle of her bed still fast asleep. I would usually wake her up as soon as I finished brushing my teeth but decided against it today. She'd sleep till noon unless she was forcibly awakened. And, no offence to Dean, but he didn't seem much like an early riser himself. So this would give me at least an hour to spend with Sam, alone and uninterrupted.

God I'm pathetic, resorting to this just to be able to spend time with him.

But I can't help it. I've never felt this strongly about anyone before. I liked him so much already. Normally it took me a few weeks to develop any sort of a crush or romantic feelings to a person, but with Sam it was completely different. With Sam, as soon as I saw him this spark surged through my body, igniting these emotions that I've never felt before. Those emotions only grew stronger when I got my chance to speak to him. It's strange though, and worrying, I'm only setting myself up for disappointment. There is no way that a guy like Sam would ever like me. Why would he? With his looks combined with his personality, he could get any girl he desires. Not only that, but as I was spending time with him I got an inkling that he likes someone. …Could it be me?

_YOU IDIOT! _My mind screamed at me. _WHAT ON EARTH MAKES YOU THINK THAT _SAM _WOULD EVER LIKE YOU MORE THEN A FRIEND?!?_ What was I thinking?!?! Reality check, he doesn't even know me! I'm getting way ahead of myself here and I'm behaving like a ridiculous little school girl, it's pathetic really. He probably has loads of girls wanting him anyway. Well who ever he likes, she's the luckiest girl in the world. I just hope she knows that.

I put on my jeans and a navy blue tank top. After that I performed my daily morning routine, that is: toilet, brush teeth, wash face and comb hair. I tied it up into a high pony tail.

Whether he likes a girl or not, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy what time I have left with him.

On my way to the kitchen I looked over the living room. I saw Dean sprawled across the couch – well half sprawled and half dangling off the side of the couch. But there was no trace of Sam.

"Good morning," a refreshed voice greeted from behind me.

I winced in surprise and turned around. "Hi Sam," I said breathlessly, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. Hunting demons had made me paranoid about sudden voices. Usually the sudden voices were accompanied by electric balls that were aimed for my head.

Sam was in the middle of the kitchen, wearing a faded pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. He had obviously gone back to his room and changed at some point during the last time I had seen him.

"Eggs or toast?" he asked.

"Toast," I told him. He nodded and pulled out two slices of bread from the fridge and put them in the toaster.

"We, all of us need to talk," I said.

He nodded curtly, "I know."

"Why is he after you?" I questioned him. As much as I wanted to talk to him as if nothing was wrong I couldn't. I needed his side of the story to find my best friends. That was the most important thing of all, not my stupid feelings.

"It's because," he paused. He looked as if he was weighing his options, and an indecisive frown spread across his face.

"You know, our best chance of getting him is if we combine our knowledge," I told him. If they didn't understand that now – if they kept secrets – if any of us did – we wouldn't be able to work cooperatively and we'd end up screwing this mission up. And if we did screw up we'd all run the risk of the demon finding out, if more people went around asking difficult questions. Not to mention, they, they'd end up dead.

"It's because I have powers," his head slung low and his shoulders slumped down. I could tell that he had faced many difficulties due to his powers. That it had not been 'peachy' as Lauren would say – same as any of the endowed, I suppose.

"I've got powers too," I offered him.

The toast popped out of the toaster, Sam got two plates and I took out the butter from the fridge. We spread butter on the toast in silence. "What powers do you have?" Sam asked, as though the question was torn out of him. He was obviously unable to restrain himself any longer.

"I can see into the past and present at will, but I need stimuli for the future. I'm telekinetic, and I can blow things up. Oh, I can also levitate." I recited. "You?"

"Just telekinesis and premonition," he answered, his voice tense.

"You're holding your emotions in," I noted. He gave off the same body language as Lauren did all the time these days. She used to be so free with her emotions, but since Joyee and Fiona... She was restrained, and hid behind an artificial mask she created to ward off any pain. It made her less susceptible to hurt which was the goal of said action but it also made her less powerful as an empath, as that was where the force of it came from. Our powers are tied to our emotions, I had to practice mine. Or people would definitely get hurt. Our friends' abduction had affected us both in different ways.

My feelings for Sam must be a side effect of that to. I mean, after losing two of the closest people in the world to me I'm just latching onto anyone who showed any form of affection, or a general liking towards me.

Sam looked at me and replied with a shrug.

"Why?" I asked him. "You can tell me." I placed on of my hands on his forearms and looked up to his face, trying to establish eye contact.

"It's a long story," he said as an excuse.

"We have until they wake up," I answered, refusing to be brushed off.

Sam looked away from me. "I lost my mother and my girlfriend because of my powers," he told me.

"Oh," I was speechless. I had no idea what to say. Sympathy swelled inside me.

"Yeah," he said. He slid down out of my arms and slumped against the cabinets. He put his head in his hands. "The night I turned six months old, a demon, he…he killed my mother."

I sat on my knees across from him.

"And then, he murdered my girlfriend, just because of my powers. He said that they would have only gotten in the way of his plan." He conveyed all this with great difficulty, from behind the shield of his hands.

"Do you mind?" I asked, reaching out a hand.

He shook his head.

I took a deep breath and concentrated on the man in front of me. And gasped. Horrible images came into my mind, two beautiful women on fire, stuck to the ceiling, their stomachs gaping, a black figure moving in the flames. '_He was going to ask her to marry him…_' the demon said as Sam snarled at him. More and more terrible images came to mind.

I shuddered as I stopped searching through his past.

"I'm so sorry, nothing, nothing that I've gone through can even compare to that," I said, looking into his eyes. I gently pulled his hands away from his face and held them with my own. "But, you shouldn't blame your powers for it. You can't stop using them. They are as much a part of you as your enormous height."

"But –" He tried to interject.

"Just think of all the good you can do with your powers. Don't stop helping others just because of a power hungry demon!" I went on.

"My whole life was screwed up because of that demon!" he said angrily.

"And how will it help if you don't use your powers? You'll be giving it what it wants," I told him, spitting out the word 'it' in disgust.

He remained speechless.

"Sam…I…" all the words floating around in my head just flew out, leaving me with a blank mind. I let go of his arms and hugged him, considering our positions it made the hug awkward, but it would have been awkward anyways seeing how I'm rarely moved enough to hug anyone. Strangely this didn't feel uncomfortable at all, it felt safe…

Sam's arms moved and came to rest on the small of my back. His head rested on my left shoulder. After a while his body tensed.

"So you can blow things up," he said, trying to change the atmosphere.

I pulled away, "Yes, watch." I stood up and looked around the room. I saw a packet of chips on the coffee table. _Perfect,_ I thought to myself. I smiled at Sam and tilted my head towards the packet of chips so he could see what I intended to do. He got up and watched me with curiosity.

I focused on the packet, instantly it burst, causing the chips to fly everywhere.

"Wha da…" I heard a deep voice mutter. Then Dean's body shot up from the couch, his legs tangled in the blanket leading to his ungraceful fall.

I switched my gaze to Sam and caught his eye, he smiled lightly.

"DEMON!!" Dean shouted, untangling himself, and suddenly a knife appeared in his hand. He looked around wildly.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"DEMON!!" A familiar voice shouted, waking me up from a very pleasant dream of – wait…

"DEMON?!?!" I screamed and rushed out of the bedroom, my hair all tangled and wearing Dean's jeans with my pajama shirt. (Last night when Shar and I were changing for bed I'd told her that there was no way I was chancing taking the pants off – the way my luck was going, the boys would have taken that exact moment to enter the room. Running out there, I was lucky not to fall flat on my face.)

I was ready to kill, and holding the gun I'd bought as soon as we'd arrived in this cursed country, I glared furiously around the room. "WHERE IS THAT THING? I WILL –" I stopped, looking around at the smoking remains of a packet of chips. "Oh, it was just you showing off again was it Shar?" I rolled my eyes and went up to Dean. Picking a smoking chip out of his hair, I popped it in my mouth and chewed. "Not bad," I said, nodding slightly. I picked off another one. "Want?" I offered it to him.

"Not really," he said, looking down at me and my apparel with a strange expression on his face. And suddenly, I was flooded with the craving to –

"Sharika, can I talk to you in the kitchen please?" I managed to choke out. I didn't allow her time to answer, simply going up, grabbing her, and towing her into a corner. "It's freaking me out, man," I muttered to her, scared as, and eyeing the brothers to make sure they couldn't hear me. My powers usually didn't get this whacked up and strong. "Every time I turn around, I'm getting everyone else's urges! I mean, half the time I don't even recognize my own, and now I have everyone else's too! _AND STOP WANTING TO DO THAT BECAUSE IT MAKES ME WANT TO_!" I hissed into her ear.

She stared at me. "Do what?"

"Oh, never mind. You are up to here in denial," I said, holding my hand high above my head. (She so wants to kiss Sam. Not just kiss, might I add. And, seriously, I DO NOT.)

"What are you two going on about?" Dean asked us.

"Chips. I was telling her that she shouldn't be so blatant with her powers – someone could walk in at any time."

"Right," Sharika said, she cleared her throat. She seriously needs to learn how to lie better.

Explanation? Absolutely no one knew about my powers except Shar and me. The demon was currently only after her, and she was all, _we have to keep the secret from everyone, I couldn't bear it if he took you too, Lauren_. Usually when she says things like that, I say something like, 'and how would I feel?', but when Sharika talks about the demon, and Fiona and Joyee, I want to protect everyone even more than usual, even if it means protecting myself too. I don't give a damn about me – it's my friends and family I live for. If anybody does anything to hurt them, I get the urge to kill. So, when Sharika talks about keeping my empathic abilities secret, I agree. I don't ever want her to get hurt.

"Chips… right."

I pasted a huge smile on my face, and went to sit on the lounge… as far away from everyone as it was possible to be, without entering another room, or looking suspicious.

Dean sat next to me. Great. Kill the whole point why don't you?!?! For the first time I noticed his rumpled, half naked state. With interest.

Damnit… talk about something – anything! "Um, so, uh, sleep well?" Smooth. Real smooth, Lauren.

"Not as well as I would have in a bed."

"How _sad_," I said, and gave him my most sarcastically mournful face.

Sam sat in the chair across from us, and Shar sat on the arm of it. They looked like a married couple or something. For a moment I imagined it. Sharika and Sam, married. How…how perfect. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes.

(I am really emotional in the mornings. Usually I get grumpy; right now I was channeling the whole 'aww, how sweet' thing. Uncool. But at least it was MY emotions. I was only emotional when I was tired these days, the rest of the time I went out of my way to be as unfeeling as possible.)

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, looking at me worriedly.

What was he worried about?! I WAS FINE, FINE I TELL YOU.

I waved a hand at him, and he offered me a tissue. This made me want to laugh, remembering – and then it made me want to –

I won't describe it. Mixed with everyone else's wants, it was a very disturbing sequence of images that entered my head.

Ugh.

Okay… so… Moving on.

"Let's get down to business."

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Firstly, I reckon we should introduce ourselves properly. Lauren Jessica Rose McMartin, and Sharika Mesba, at your service," Lauren said, the sarcasm that was her trademark high in her voice.

"Sam and Dean Winchester."

"What do you know about this demon?" Sam and I asked in unison. Due to the seriousness of the situation I suppressed my urge to smirk. "Well?" I said, and nudged Sam softly with my elbow.

"Tell us what you know first," Dean said stubbornly. He bent forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and his clasped hands hanging between them.

Lauren hit his shoulder. "No, you go first or I won't give you your jeans back!"

"By all means keep…" Dean started to say.

"We know that he is in the area," Sam interrupted, averting a pointless argument between Dean and Lauren.

"He kidnapped Joyee and Fiona so he could get to me, and then to my powers. That was obvious from the start." I informed them. "Don't you just hate long expositions?" I added jokingly. I rolled my shoulders. Sitting like this was making my back start to hurt. I wished I could lean back in the chair, but that would mean leaning on Sam, which would be awkward, and a very unpleasant experience – for him.

"He took our dad," Dean told us. He gazed at Sam and me curiously.

Lauren put her hand on his shoulder and drew him back into the couch. "I couldn't see," she explained. They exchanged looks of amusement before they turned and faced us.

"What was that for dude?" Sam wanted to know.

I was as puzzled as he was.

∞∞

_Dean_

Those two had the hots for each other, big time.

I leant forward to watch them closer, and Lauren drew me back, with a grin, saying, "I couldn't see." We gave each other a look of understanding. Obviously, she'd noticed the same thing.

"What was that for dude?" Sammy asked.

Sharika looked as though she wanted to lean back into Sam, as it seemed as though she was going to fall off the arm of the chair at any moment. Sam's arm was on the back of the chair, like one of those cheesy moves guys make at the movies, when they want to put their arm around a chick. His body was slanted in her direction.

"You two lo- ouch!"

∞∞

_Sharika_

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched upward. After a long pause he answered, "You two lo-ouch!"

Lauren jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, she tilted her head in our direction and gave him a stern look.

"What? What is it?" I questioned them. This 'act' was beginning to annoy me. They were obviously sharing the same thought, or secret, whatever it was.

"Nothing," Lauren answered airily, waving her hand in the air as if she were shooing away my question. "Humus is made out of chickpeas."

Complete silence followed this statement. Sam and Dean stared at Lauren while she grinned manically. I had already heard her say that many, many, many, many times before.

Moments later her smile began to waver, but she still maintained it. I could see that it was taking a lot out of her to not stop. Being her best friend I saw that it just a fake look she had on to throw everyone off the path of her true emotions. In her eyes I could make out confusion, (getting that off Dean and Sam for sure), frustration (that's all her), longing (as much I hate to admit it, that would be me), and…lust! I wasn't sure if that was her or Dean, I didn't want to know.

∞∞

_Lauren_

Ugh. I HATE this. Everyone's emotions are crowding together in my head and body. I swear, if I don't stop getting Shar's stomach flutterings, and Sam's hunger pains, and Dean's tension headache, I will SCREAM.

Besides the physical, there was the emotional crap piling on me too. Confusion, longing and lust. (Who KNOWS how many directions that last one's coming from. IT'S CALLED A VIBRATOR PEOPLE!! Okay, and an inflatable woman. Picky, picky.)

I am going to lose it and give in to their urges. I can feel it, I will become exhausted from holding it all in, then one of them will overwhelm me and I'll do something crazy.

Like pile ice-cream on Dean's head and make Sam eat it. (Headache gone, Hunger gone… I can't do anything for Shar's stomach, damn her.)

Just because she's never felt attracted enough to a guy to do anything about it… so now there's all this build up of nervousness, and first discovery, crap like that. I just hope I'm not around for their first kiss… ugh. I get shudders just thinking about what THAT would do to me.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Dean," I said, breaking the silence. "Tell Lauren about the first demon please."

"Huh?" He looked at me as if he didn't even realize I was in the room. "Which one?"

"The bastard we wasted," Sam replied.

"We wasted lots of bastards," Dean responded with an air of pride.

"The main one," I said.

"How do you know about that?" he regarded me curiously.

I explained my powers (all of it) to him, how I had seen into Sam's past and found out about _it_. I then went on to tell the Winchester brothers about how we discovered that our friends were taken and the note it left along with the journey Lauren and I had been on so far.

After a few moments of taking in the new information Dean nodded. He didn't have a comment and seemed eager to share the story with Lauren. He twisted his body so he could face Lauren. "It was one hell of a bitch," Dean began his story.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I slipped on my 'I'm listening to every single word you say' face, and instead of doing just that, half listened, and struggled not to perve on Dean's abs the rest of the time.

It's not that what he was saying wasn't interesting, because it really was, it was just that people should know better than to park a hot, half naked male body in front of me, and then expect me to listen to demonic anecdotes.

(Something something) "– and then we shot at it, but –" (something something…..abs….)

I observed Shar and Sam out of the corner of my eye. Sam was motioning Shar towards him, and she was leaning in. We all know how THAT is gonna turn out.

Idiots.

∞∞

_Sharika_

He was talking animatedly, and she listened intently. Well, it would look that way to a stranger, but I knew better. Upon closer inspection anyone could see her eyes move the slightest bit down and then straight back up to his eyes in mere micro seconds. She was trying her best not to check out the extremely attractive male sitting in front of her. Trying and failing.

Sam tugged on my arm. I spun my head in his direction, giving him a look of curiosity.

He mentioned with his forefinger for me to move closer to him. I obliged, and leant in; this act caused me to accidentally slide off the armrest and into the chair, meaning, onto his left thigh. He tilted his head and moved his mouth closer to my ear.

"None of that happened," he told me in low tones. "Well, some of it did, but not the extreme fighting he's describing now. He's, in his own way, flirting with Lauren."

I nodded, my eyes glued to Dean and Lauren's conversation; not their verbal one, their physical one. Their body language spoke louder then any words ever could.

"She's doing the same," I said, in the same volume as he spoke. We watched them 'talk' in silence, highly amused by the behavior of both our roommates.

∞∞

_Sam_

While Sharika was distracted by the conversation I took that moment as an opportunity to think. It was hard, considering how she, my future wife, was half sitting on my lap. I had a strong urge to link my arms together around her stomach, pull her closer towards me and rest my chin on the top of her head.

I didn't, though.

I was clearly attracted to her both personally and physically, by the look of things even Lauren had figured it out. Dean had realised that, the first time I talked to her. An amused smile crept across my face as I thought back to yesterday night at the bar, when Dean and I first saw them.

_Flashback_

"_Remember, be smooth. None of your geek crap!" Dean reminded me._

"_Bite me!" I retorted._

"_Look, dude, you gave me your word that you'll get a date in this town. You need fun in your life. We are allowed to have fun. We can't become obsessed like Dad. You'll wake up one day and regret it," Dean told me sternly._

"_Yeah, ok," I agreed, defeated._

"_Excuse me," a light female voice requested. _

_Dean and I moved allowing enough space for her to pass through._

_Two women, both around five foot five or six, went by without looking at us._

_The first one had curly blonde hair, which was fixed into ponytail – or had at least been attempted to tame into that style. Small ringlets were escaping the band. She wore a pair of tight dark blue jeans and a white shirt, and was of average build. She had large hazel green eyes and a quirky smile as she talked to the woman next to her._

_The second one had dark skin, maybe from India, around there somewhere. She wore her long black hair loosely. Skinny leg jeans and a red t-shirt emphasized her slim figure. Her mouth moved and her brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she said something to her friend, as though she was hiding a smile. _

"…_no multi-tasking this time…" I heard the black haired one say as they passed._

"_See," Dean pointed to the two women. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Look at the jugs on that one!" he said, grinning in the blonde one's direction. _

_I shifted my gaze from the Indian girl to the blonde girl. Dean was right, her chest was huge, but my eyes wandered back to the Indian girl._

"_But since this will be your first time since, god knows when, I'll let you have the blonde. She seems bookish." He headed towards them before I could even answer._

_Rolling my eyes, I followed behind him, still watching the Indian girl as they picked a table. _

_Smooth, I told myself, be smooth. _

_Yeah right._

_End of flashback_

∞∞

_Lauren_

Dean finished his story, and I applauded him sarcastically. "Wow, fascinating. See, until two months ago, I didn't know anything about dark supernatural crap, like demons and such. All I knew was that Shar could make the ground shake when she got highly emotional. Not cool. Stupid math exams," I muttered, thinking back to how many times that had happened during high school. They'd even had geologists come out to check ground stability. "And I was very intuitive about the way people felt. Then they took Joyee and Fi away, and we got dragged into all this."

But Sharika has been dealing with demons practically ever since she got her powers. So this situation was easier on her then it would be on me, I mean the demon part. I'm still new at this.

Another stomach flutter hit me. I swear I'm going to vomit soon! How can she stand it??!

"How much do you know about the demon?"

"We know that the demon has his own body, but he prefers to possess people, as this leaves him less vulnerable and less noticeable. We've never come into contact with this one before, he's hardly mentioned in Dad's journal," Sam answered.

"Its like this son of a bitch just came in off the street," Dean added.

She was going to do something. I could feel it… Ugh, just get it over with and stop procrastinating already.

∞∞

_Sharika _

My back felt stiff and was beginning to ache after sitting in that one position that whole time. Letting go of my inhibitions I moved back, into Sam's broad chest. He tensed up at first, but then slowly relaxed. Well he almost did, he was still a little rigid.

I hope he didn't find me weird now. Or too forward…

It's not like I do this on a regular basis, or ever…but seriously, my back was really hurting.

_Yeah, that's why you're doing this…_my own mind patronized me. _Not that you _want _to lean on him. Even though he is one of the cutest guys you've ever laid eyes on…_

'My back really does hurt! Okay?' I argued pointlessly. Even if I did want to lean on him, which I DID NOT, I wouldn't have without a proper reason. He's probably going to puke after having me on his lap or something, he's not doing anything about it now because he's too nice. And chivalrous. This all just proves my point, my back really did hurt, otherwise I wouldn't put Sam through this suffering.

"He couldn't have, he must have at least known about the first demon. They could be related somehow. Hmm…is there a demon hierarchy? Maybe he is trying to take over in his...field by stealing our powers and using them for himself?"

"It's a possibility," Dean agreed, obviously stifling a smile. "One Sam and I already considered."

"He had to have known about the demise about the first one though," I continued on with my theory. "But from what I've seen and heard, this particular demon likes to use his advocates to do his bidding. He only ever exposes himself to this world when the situation is extremely urgent. I know for a fact that he has agents on the surface."

"That means he's been hiding himself, waiting to make his move," Dean realized. "Damn, this son of a bitch is powerful. He has to have supporters, and other demons working for him."

"He's not as powerful as the first one," I stated. "Otherwise he would have already taken over. And it gets worse, he has human supporters. I don't know how he managed that, but he does. I think he brainwashed them or something. But _those_ _people_ are easy to distinguish from normal human beings. They have this vibe about them that anybody could distinguish – plus we have Lauren, so it'll be even easier."

"Yeah, and besides that the lower level ones act like crazy people. All eyes twitching and gabbling on about the black nights."

Dean ignored Lauren, seriously considered what I was saying and looked over my shoulder at Sam.

∞∞

_Lauren_

GOD DAMNIT! When she did her little 'move' it just increased the butterflies in her stomach. And now stupid SAM has an ERECTION! HOW CAN SHE NOT REALISE THIS?! And more disturbingly, HOW THE HELL AM _I_ ABLE TO FEEL IT?!

Okay, I know that Sharika won't even notice _it_, due to her inexperience with penises. She probably thought it was his phone or something.

Sam leant back even more; it was obvious that he was 'uncomfortable', even without my empath powers. And, to make it worse, on the other hand he wanted to…do things.

Poor, poor Sam.

NOT.

He looked seriously restricted, like he wanted to be doing….you know….but couldn't because there were _two_ many people in the room.

Jesus. Now I'm glad I don't have one.

Not that I ever wanted one.

That would just be weird. I have got to stop thinking about this – and all of them have to stop giving me their urges. How many times do I have to say it?

∞∞

_Sam_

Dean was giving me an idiotic, perverted look. A look that conveyed 'What the hell man?! LOOK DOWN HER TOP! YOU HAVE A CLEAR VIEW! If you don't I'll have solid proof that you are a homo!'

I ignored him at first and switched my sight towards the kitchen. I was slightly worried that I might actually do that. Dean's words and encouragements always penetrate me. Sooner or later I do exactly what he wants.

Not only do I have him egging me on, but also I have my own hormones telling me to do so. How am I supposed to fight this? It's two against one!

∞∞

_Lauren_

Oh no, OHhhh _NO_… I thought to my self, but the urge was too strong.

_I._

_Looked._

_At._

_Sharika's._

_BOOBS._

Now that is something I personally never want to do to again. NOTE TO SAM: I am going to kill you. With pleasure.

Except, you know, I was too busy perving on my best friend.

∞∞

_Dean_

I turned from watching Sam's obvious attempt to fight his impulses, towards Lauren. And then I noticed her looking at Sam and Sharika… or more specifically, Sharika's cleavage.

_Damn, so hot but a lesbian. _

But hey, if Sharika wasn't my future sister in law this would have had its bright side…

∞∞

_Sam_

"Um…Lauren… why are you looking at me like that?"

I looked over at Lauren, only to see her staring at Sharika's… huh…?

Lauren looked at the three of us quickly, then jerked her head away, sighing in relief.

It couldn't be what I was thinking, right?

∞∞

_Lauren_

_Phew. Dumb ass repression and stupid yearnings to –_

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh crap," I moaned.

And then I found myself running over to Sam, pushing Sharika off his lap and onto the floor, me straddling him (IN A LAPDANCE POSITION), and pashing him.

Wow.

Not cool.

At least he had the decency to be trying to push me away, but SOMEBODY'S desire was making me cling to him, and ….

∞∞

_Sharika_

Oh my god!

I have to do something quick. I ran to the kitchen and pulled out a bucket from the cabinet under the sink.

With a little too much force I turned on the tap for cold water and began to fill the bucket up, glancing up over my shoulder to see the chaotic scene. Dean was staring in amazement, and jealousy, at Lauren who was currently doing certain movements one would generally expect to view in a porno…not that I would know…Sam, on the other hand, was pushing at Lauren's waist, trying to pry her off without hurting her.

Great, just what I needed. Lauren launching herself onto the guy that I liked! He's going to end up asking her out, and so will Dean and there will be this HUGE triangle, one where everyone comes bitching about it to me. I might as well give up the minute hope I had of Sam and I ever getting together (which was already in the minuses), especially when he thinks that Lauren, someone who was FAR more attractive then myself, wants him. He was only trying to push her off because he was a gentleman.

The bucket, filled up to its brim, began overrunning with water. I held the bucket and ran back to the room. 'Oh wait,' I thought. 'My powers!' I'm not used to using them so freely, since I have to keep them a secret. It was only by a complete accident that Lauren found out about them. I do practice in private, but I don't use them in public. Unless the people I was with already knew about them, but that's only my parents (I miss them so much), Lauren, Joyee, Fiona and a few other close friends. It feels great to be able to use them when ever I want, but I can't always rely on my powers, because I would become reckless and irresponsible. Anyone would. So I'm used to doing things the normal way.

With the slightest movement of my eyes I hurled Lauren away from Sam and onto the couch next to Dean. I then realized that this was not the wisest decision.

Sam was breathing heavily, trying to regain his normal heart beat.

"Not again!" Lauren groaned. She then swung herself, using one leg, over Dean in true lap dancer grace, or so to speak. She then proceeded to do what she had done to Sam. Unlike his brother, Dean made no effort to remove her.

I sighed, lifted the bucket over my head and threw it all on Lauren and Dean. The sudden coolness of the water brought Lauren out of her trance, at least for a moment.

Simultaneously I opened the door to the bedroom with my mind, and flung Lauren onto her bed. I then closed and locked the door.

That was not the end of it. She started to bang harder and harder at the door yelling "Have a threesome with meeeeeeeeeeee!"

∞∞

_Lauren_

"– meeeeeeeeeeee!! It would be fun! Don't be afraid to experiment!"

This was worse than the time I had to dance to Run It by Chris Brown in year 10. I mean, I could see and feel myself doing it, and was horrified. But I couldn't stop.

(Hey….bright side? At least I wasn't a booty-shaker/pole dancer/belly dancer like Shakira out there. I WAS ONLY A LAP DANCER!!!)

"Who are you talking to?" Sharika bellowed.

"MYSELF!!"

"You want to have a threesome with yourself?!?" Dean asked, obviously imagining such a thing.

"YES!!" I said through the door. "WHY, DO YOU WANT TO JOIN?" (Being sarcastic, as originally it was his whole, wanting to suddenly have a threesome thing. At least, I think so. Sam doesn't seem the type.)

"Hell yeah!" he replied. Now, how did I know he was going to say that? Dumb ass.

"Sharika," I stated, trying to sound calm and rational, "Let me out."

"No."

"WHY NOT??!!" Yeah… totally lost control again there. But hey, I do not want to be stuck in this crap room, with a cockroach waving its antennae at me, like it's saying 'me and my friends are going to eat you. Hehehe.' (Anchovies and cockroaches…the two worst animals ever to be created. Asides from the men in the next room.)

"Weren't you even HERE the last three minutes?"

"Hello, you know that wasn't me. Now let me out so I can kill them. Then revive them, and kill them again." I rested my head against the wood of the door. Dean, _please_, take an Advil, for God's sake.

I felt Sharika's compulsion to sigh, but controlled myself. Why was my empathy being so crazy right now? Like…it never made me do any of this in Aus. I hardly ever felt other people's emotions, let alone their urges.

I heard the lock click open, and I let myself out.

As soon as I saw the three of them I wanted to run back inside, but I simply closed the door then leant against it, trying to act unconcerned.

Suddenly I was struck with a wave of jealousy from Sharika's direction. "HELLO!! I DIDN'T WANT TO, YOU KNOW!!"

She just looked at me like I was an idiot. Since it was exactly how I was feeling, I gazed at the floor in silence.

"So… what WAS that?" Dean asked. I could feel him staring at me, like everyone else in the damn room.

I glared at Sharika. She nodded. "I'm an empath!" I revealed, letting out a huge sigh of relief and slumping next to Dean on the couch. "You stay away from me," I warned him, narrowing my eyes as I saw him shift closer.

"What's an empath?" Sam wanted to know.

"It means that she experiences other people's feelings. It's almost like a mind reader, but not quite. It's never been like this before though…." Sharika explained.

"Yes, it's all your fault!" I shouted, and swung my arm around to point at Dean. "You and your stupid testosterone!!"

"WHAT THE HELL DUDE?! YOU WANTED TO MAKE OUT WITH ME?" Sam yelled, backing away from Dean with a look of repulsion spread across his face. (You know, as much as he could, sitting on a chair.)

"Pffft. No! That was –" but then I saw Sharika's pleading face behind him. "– uh, you see, when, um." I cleared my throat. "Dean was really horny, which made me really horny, which made me jump on the first guy I saw. That was you." I glanced at everyone, and grinned confidently. (Which I _really_ wasn't. At all.)

Sam glared at Dean. "Dude, never again, please."

"Yeah. Please." I repeated, to Sharika. But the guys didn't notice. Sam was looking at me, all offended, and Dean was feeling all grumpy because if the S's left he could – me…

Hem.

"You don't want to make out with me?" Sam asked, acting insulted.

"Do you want me to want to make out with you?"

"Do you want me to want you to want to make out with me?"

"Do –"

"Enough!" Sharika interrupted, slightly annoyed.

"Why?" I asked, turning to Sharika. "Do you want to make out with him?"

Whoops… I wasn't supposed to say that… Besides, I already know the answer.

"Seems that way to me," Dean said, grinning. "Except the reverse." He turned to me. "You're an empath, you should know. So tell me, what are they really feeling?" He added in a stage whisper – "Sammy wants to kiss her, doesn't he?"

"Well…" I said slowly, looking evil. But then I caught sight of Sharika's murderous expression. (It was subtle, only I could tell. An outsider would just think she was unconcerned.) I mentally shook my head and rolled my eyes. "I can't tell you. Empath, everyone else confidentiality. Besides, I can't just turn it on and off like that."

Could I?

I experimented, turning my thoughts onto Sam. He was still a bit confused about the whole…me, him, lap dancer thing, and… Oh dear, he was wishing it was Sharika instead of me.

WELL GOOD, BECAUSE I HAD BEEN WISHING IT WAS –

Anchovies.

And he wanted to be alone with her for awhile. Hmm…I turned my focus on Sharika and found out that she felt the same way. Should I leave them alone and go out with Blondie or should I stay here and create tension between them…I wonder.

I'm too lazy. I wish I had Sharika's powers so I could just shove them both together and meld their faces! Or into a closet and 'claim' that it was an accident…but I very much doubt Sharika would believe that.

Oh well. I started laughing, imagining the kinds of things I would probably do if I had Sharika's powers… me. With all that extra responsibility… aha ha ha…

The three of them stared at me. This is starting to become a regular occurrence.

I sighed, "Never mind. Anyways… so… demons, and things, and stuff. Who wants pizza?"

"Its ten o'clock in the morning." Sam said, raising his eyebrows at me.

"It is never too early for pizza. But I don't want any anyway."

Dean whispered in my ear, "So, what am I feeling right now…?" And, without even wanting to, I received them. Stupid testosterone-infested emotions.

I returned, "I have no idea. But I do know that these two are severely attracted to each other… wanna make things difficult for them?"

"We can try..." he said mysteriously as he stood up. "You two, check out what Dad wrote about this demon, we're going to the library, see if there's any history of this thing around here."

I nodded, standing up next to him.

"Dean I already –"

"Look again." He was leaving the two of them with a lot of free time, where Sam would no doubt get bored witless, and perve on Shar, and then Shar would notice, and they would –

Oookay…

I doubt it'll happen like that. Sharika will be all, information engrossed, and not notice. This is good, because I do not want to return to a scene like the one Dean was trying not to imagine.

I rolled my eyes, went into the bedroom and grabbed a t-shirt and my own pair of jeans. We'd have to go back to Dean's room to change first, unless he wanted legions of women following him around all day…scrap that, I'd just tell him we were getting dressed first.

Knowing his type, he'd go out in those shorts and no shirt on, so he _could_ have the legions of women following him.

∞∞

_Sharika_

_Well, in one way I got what I wanted…_ I thought to myself as Dean and Lauren left to go to the 'library'. But I had no idea what to do or say! I didn't even know that I wanted to do _that_ until Lauren literally did it for me! _Did_ I want to do that? I mean, sure I wouldn't have minded a peck on the cheek, maybe on the lips, even that was pushing it. But to go as far as _that_? Especially for me? Impossible.

I knew what Dean was playing at, it was obvious. I'm sure Sam understood as well.

I turned around to face Sam, "What does your dad have on this thing?" I asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"Well, just that it has the same pattern every time he takes someone and that he is in this area somewhere." He answered, in the same calm, forced tones I spoke in.

"Does he have his own body or does he possess people when he abducts his victims?" I questioned him; I sat on the floor, which ironically was the cleanest spot here. Cleanest metaphorically speaking of course, seeing how Lauren practically dry humped the Winchester brothers on all the furniture in the living room besides the TV and the coffee table.

"Possessions," Sam answered simply.

A long thoughtful pause passed.

"So what do we do now?" I wondered aloud. "Since you already read through the diary..."

"Journal," he corrected me.

"Journal," I repeated. I cleared my throat. "And don't really have any info on this Demon; there isn't much to talk about."

"Well…" Sam trailed off trying to figure out what activities we could engage in. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to do what you want to do," I replied.

"I want to do what you want to do."

"If you want to do what I want to do then you want to do what you want to do because that's what I want to do." I argued. (I have these sorts of arguments with Lauren all the time, needless to say I always win, with that exact sentence. And then she gets all confused because she doesn't think as logically as I do, and says something totally unrelated.)

He grinned at me. "Well then, what if I want to do this…" He trailed off.

I moved closer to him to hear the rest.

"Sure," I agreed. "Sounds like fun."


	5. Ready When You Are Superman

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

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Commentary, Chapter Five:

Lozz: I'm not sure what we were thinking when we made this chapter. Maybe we were high. Sharika, didn't I tell you to stop putting crack in my coffee?!? It makes me jittery!

Shar: Lauren, I have never put 'crack' in your coffee.

Lozz: Now, why don't I believe you? And How in the Hell can you start thinking about Mr Philpot when you're –? You know?

Shar: I…don't know.

Lozz: Stop trying to imitate my cool, messed up empath speech. It's only for cool people. Like me.

Shar: Right…read and review!

Lozz: I still don't own Dean. But Shar on Sam…well, that's a different matter. suddenly starts laughing Ah haha ha ha… Shar on Sam…rolls on the floor

Shar: Lauren!

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**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Ready When You Are Superman**

_So dear to me  
Always keep me company  
Who needs to go outside  
I will be your silent bride  
I can't take my eyes off you  
Nothing ever needs to be said  
You send your message  
right into my head  
You fill me up when I'm alone  
So soothing is your monotone  
I can't take my eyes off you  
I can't take my eyes off you  
So maybe you're not as real  
as the others  
But I choose you over all my past lovers  
For they have come and they have gone_

I Can't Take My Eyes Off You – Melanie Doane

_Lauren_

The library was closed.

"This is so…" I started, 'keeping watch' on the library steps. Then I noticed.

Dean was bending down in front of the door. It gave me a _very _nice view of certain firm attributes. So my sentence trailed off, as I became thoroughly distracted.

"I can pick this, but I'd rather not do it where the whole world can see." He gestured behind him to the crowded street. "Do you want to go back?"

"Ye- NO. I don't."

"Me either."

"Well, what _do_ you want to do?"

"I want to know what they're doing. Can you –" he turned around and I jerked my head and eyes away. "Wait… were you checking me out?"

"No. What were you saying?"

He smiled knowingly, "Can you do long-distance empathy?"

"I told you, I can't turn it on and off at will."

"You lied. Now, can you just try? I want to know if it's working or not."

"You're a pervert." But I tried anyway. I focused, channeling the connection between Shar and I. The rush of power felt glorious. If this was how Sharika felt whenever she used her telekinesis, etcetera, etcetera, I can understand why she threw me across the room. "OH MY GOD!!"

"What? What is it?" Dean asked, grabbing my upper arms.

"IT'S HORRIBLE." I breathed in sharply. "They're watching the O.C."

I broke my empathy off. And started to keel over. _Holy_ –

Dean caught me. "That's it? So much for my plan. Are you sure? No kissing, touching or _special favors_?"

"No," I managed to get out. "But Seth and Summer on the other hand…"

"Right. Can you walk back to the car?"

"Uhnn," I muttered. I felt so woozy that I was in danger of fainting. And I have never fainted in my life.

"I see." Dean scooped me into his arms.

I clung to his neck. LET ME DOWN!!!!!!!!!! It's too high up here. And besides, I was too heavy, even for a buff, strong, muscular…

And we were at the car. He set me down, keeping one arm around me, and opened the door. He helped me inside.

Okay, why was he being so nice? I tried to ask, but all that left my mouth was a series of small grunting sounds. If that. He shouldn't be so nice…bad boys are supposed to be…and it was…

"Shut up. I'm trying to be nice." He settled in the seat next to me, starting up the car. I closed my eyes, leaning back against the upholstery. Wherever he was taking me, as long as it had a bed and lots of paracetamol, I couldn't give a damn.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"I love you," Marissa cooed into Ryan's neck.

"…Thank you," he replied, his body suddenly stiff.

"Ummm…you're welcome. I have to go, midnight curfew," she said. She turned then practically ran into her car.

"I love this scene!" I told Sam who was laughing.

"Well, at least he was polite," Sam said, catching his breath.

"Still, could you see her wince mentally? That had to have hurt," I responded, my eyes back onto the screen. We were watching the first season of The OC after having watched four episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Suddenly I felt as if there was a third person watching us talk, except that person wasn't here, or even near us…that doesn't even make any sense.

"Do you feel that?" I asked Sam as I got up and twisted my body to search around the room. I had to make sure we really weren't being watched, that a demon wasn't lurking behind the counter getting ready to strike or something.

"Feel what?"

"Nothing," I shook my head. I seated myself down again, trying to shake off the feeling. It disappeared in a matter of seconds. "Do you still want to watch the rest?"

"Not really," he answered honestly. "It's getting a bit boring now."

"Yeah," I agreed. "What do you want to do now?"

"I want to do what yo-" he started to say again.

"Don't even bother," I interrupted him.

"Do you want to go for a walk in the park?" he asked, he craned his neck to look out the window. I did the same. It was a beautiful sunny day.

"Sure," I replied. I got up and went to my room to fish out a jacket from the suitcase. I got out my denim blue one and put it on. "Let's go."

∞∞

_Dean_

It was kind of worrying, the sudden weakness in a person who hadn't shown any in all the weird scenarios last night. I glanced over at her. She was massaging her temples, eyes closed, and a small frown on those lips of hers.

My body still tingled from hauling her carcass to the car. She'd put her arms around my neck and I'd –

Where was I going to take her? We couldn't go back to the motel yet, I wanted Sammy to do his thing. Besides, being cooped up in there with the two future lovebirds was not my idea of a good time.

Maybe there was an occult bookstore in town; we could research there instead of at the library. Plus, if it was a good one, she'd be able to rest a little and stop scaring me. It was bad enough these vision things happening to Sam, now I have to look after some random chick too?

I drove down the street, looking for the usual signs of over-enthusiastic patterns and paraphernalia. Ten minutes later, I found a shop that looked promising. 'The Pentagram'.

I parked the car, and looked at Lauren. She was looking at the shop.

"Where…where is my panadol?" she croaked, looking at me with accusatory eyes.

"What's panadol?"

"Drugs. Now give… me."

"What kind of drug?"

"Ugh. Just get me… Advil." She looked disgusted.

"Oh. Right." I dug in the glove box, thinking about how if I pissed her off, she could knee me in the face now. I already had bruises from the other times I'd annoyed her. "Can you dry swallow?" I asked, finding the battered packet of headache tablets. She nodded, popping two out of the packet and swallowing them.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"I swear, panadol works better, faster, stronger. Take panadol." I told him after swallowing the two tablets. My throat hurt even worse now, and if it weren't for Sharika I wouldn't be hooked on panadol!

_Flashback_

"_Sharika, he was – they were – they weren't even on the bed and he..." I started to cry. "I thought he loved me. And I've been crying all night, now everything hurts!" I finished dramatically. _

"_I'm so sorry Lauren," she said, looking concerned. "High school guys are jackasses! I can't do anything for your emotional pain, but for your headaches, I recommend panadol."_

…

"_Sharika, I feel like I'm gonna puke! DAMN PMS!" I yelled, throwing a telephone at the wall. I missed and it hit Fiona instead._

"_PANADOL!" Sharika yelled as she ran past me, trying to avoid any items I threw her way. "When you're done, make sure that Fi isn't dead, we need to pay the rent next week."_

…

"_Ohhh," I moaned. I slumped down on the couch. "My head hurts, damn that rave."_

"_You shouldn't have drunk that much alcohol!" Joyee admonished me._

_I ignored her._

"_Actually…" Fiona paused. "She didn't even have beer or anything. She was given grape juice the whole time at the party. No one would want to see Lauren drunk and having a mental breakdown over anchovies."_

"_Panadol works miracles," Sharika said as she passed us. "Now get moving! I'm ready for my classes at uni today and you aren't even out of your pajamas, Lauren!"_

_End of Flashback_

It wasn't my fault that I was sick that day! She's just too organized. If it weren't for her the whole house would be a pigsty. All rooms were clean except for my, Fiona's and Joyee's bedrooms.

I sighed, and tried my hand at getting out of the car. There was much grabbing and leaning on the door, and then I found myself on the ground.

"This is so ass," I muttered, my headache worse, and now my whole body bruised. I couldn't even push myself up from the ground. I could almost see Sharika shaking her head at me, saying something like, 'That's what comes from not exercising your powers Lauren!'

And as much as I'd hate to admit it, she'd be right.

"Hey," Dean said, helping me up. "Take it easy."

I leaned on heavily on him, and he helped me into the bookstore. I tried to look inconspicuous, as some of the patrons looked us over. I guess we didn't look like the type to frequent this kind of place. They're wrong about me, at least. I've been to more occult bookstores, witchly gatherings, and taverns in the last month than I have ever in my life.

Dean supported me all the way to a chair in the back, where he assisted me into it. I leant back, praying for the Advil to work soon.

I peeked at Dean from under my eyelids. He was crouched in front of me, sitting on his heels and glancing around the shop. It was really sweet of him to look after me in this way, I mean; we hardly even know each other.

"Hey Blondie," I whispered with a small smile. He looked up at me. "Thanks."

He smiled, a beautiful half smile that seemed almost angelic on his face. "You're welcome."

Everyone seemed to be leaving the shop now, and a man came towards us, opening his mouth. It was probably closing time, these shops have very strange hours, as I'd discovered during my past explorations.

"We're – Whoa, whoa, whoa there!" the man said, staring at me and Dean with huge eyes. I jerked my own up at him. He was a little taller than Dean's shoulder, and skinny as a pole, with a salt and pepper goatee and close cropped hair. He was looking us over with smoky grey eyes, and smiling with raised eyebrows at the pair of us.

"You got a problem?" Dean asked, rising up to his full height. I must admit, it looked impressive, even from behind. Make that _especially _from behind. Mmmm-mmm.

"Nah, mate," the guy said. He had a massive smile to match his eyes as he looked us over carefully. "Just thought I'd mention, your girlfriend probably shouldn't be so blatant about those powers of hers. To those with the ability to see clearly, she's practically shouting 'look at me, look at me'."

"Girlf-"

"What…are you talk-ing about?" I asked, my throat still scratchy. I gazed up at them, eyebrows raised.

"Name's Royce," the guy introduced himself. He held out his hand to Dean then I. (Dean didn't shake it, and I couldn't move, so...) "Right… anyways, I could have seen that empathy of yours from across the street."

"Empathy?" I repeated, heart in my mouth.

"Don't play dumb. It's all over you, especially the signs that you're untrained, and that you just used a big dollop of it. The physical drain? That's a classic symptom too."

"What's it to you?" Dean asked, suspicion rife in his voice.

"Well, hunter, just thought I could help you out a little. It's what we do around here." Royce was looking pretty serious now.

"Help us with –"

"Dean, he… obviously knows. Any… help would… be appreciated," I managed to get out. The pounding in my head seemed to be getting worse, not better.

"You know what helps with those headaches?" Royce asked me. "Sleep. An hour of it, and it will be clean gone out of your head."

"Throat…?" I asked.

"Tea with lemon and honey. The honey soothes it, and the tea –"

"If you don't mind," Dean interrupted, "We could use the help. So, the chatting can wait, if you don't mind."

"It's not me who has the information. It's a friend of mine, and I doubt he'll be very willing to part with it, considering the possible ramifications of sharing. You'd probably need to do him a favor, then swear not to mention his name ever again. That's if he even gives you his real name." Royce smiled. "He's like that sometimes."

"Favor? Like a bribe?" Dean asked.

"Probably not. I'll give him a call; see if he's willing to meet with you and your two friends. If that's convenient for you?"

I nodded and smiled before Dean could answer. Royce smiled back, and left the room.

"Lauren!" Dean hissed at me. "You realize this could be a trap!"

"Of – course I…realize. Not…stupid. But – could…help. Must – see. Right?" This whole not being able to talk properly thing was really beginning to piss me off.

"How did he know about Sam and Sharika? How did he know what we're looking for? How did he even know about your empathy, and my being a hunter? Lauren, he could be possessed or working for the demon."

"Tell-ing me?"

Royce re-entered the room. "He agreed. I'll give you the address." He watched us for a minute. "You can trust me. I didn't even know about you two until you walked in here, and as for how? I'm a different kind of seer than your friend. Things about people just kind of swim around them in my eyes when I focus. I can see auras too. That's why I hooked this meeting up for you with my friend. You're good people."

"Prove it," Dean stated stubbornly. I glared at him, wishing I could start one of my rants.

"You have a brother that you are overly protective of. You have a past history that goes back further than a decade of hunting supernatural things. You were kissed yesterday and are still figuring it out in your head. You haven't eaten yet today. You –"

"I get it," Dean interrupted, and Royce grinned at him.

"Don't worry, mate, I've had to prove myself to practically everyone I try to help. I'm used to it. But you weren't going to ask, were you?" he asked, suddenly switching his attention to me. I shook my head. "That's sweet, the way you trust people. But not a trait highly appreciated in this profession. I can see you have a healthy dose of cynicism though, so I'm sure things will turn out for you. Now, about that address –"

∞∞

_Sharika_

"I did!" I laughed along with Sam.

"I just can't see you doing that!" he exclaimed.

"They forced me," I told him after my laughter died down.

We walked in silence. I had just finished telling him about the time I had gone to a school in England as an exchange student when I was fifteen turning sixteen (in eleventh grade). And let's just say my friends there created situations where I had to be…creative. Such as the time Alex had dragged me onstage with her and forced me to dance while she sang Beep by the Pussycat Dolls. Or the time Janice signed me up, without asking me I add, for a cheerleading competition. Or the time I had to take over Melissa's place in the fashion show (my cheeks were frozen in that smile for hours after it ended). Or the time Darrel had me pose as a pole dancer at a seedy strip club so I could spy on a guy who supposedly had a crush on his girlfriend and therefore was a potential threat. (He wasn't by the way, he turned out to be gay and in love with Darrel. God that was awkward…) I cringe in embarrassment every time I remember one of _those_ moments, and those were the _dullest_ circumstances I had gotten myself into.

As we walked on the pathway we took in the scenery. Sam swooped down and picked up a purple flower, he handed it to me in a very gentleman-like way. I smiled and thanked him. I pushed a lock of hair behind my ears, fished out a hair clip out of my pocket and clipped the flower in my hair.

"What else did you do?" He asked me, looking ahead, his hands clasped together behind his back.

"So much more," I scoffed.

∞∞

_Dean_

She looked so innocent, sitting there, picking up the teacup that Royce had just placed in front of her. Like an olden day picture of a Victorian maiden and –

"Blughhh! I hate tea!" Lauren spat the tea all over the table. "It taste-s like…dirty dish w-ater!"

Well, until she did something like that. "Got anything stronger than tea?" I asked Royce. I still didn't trust him, although he had given us the address to a supposed informant, and proven himself in Lauren's eyes. He kept looking at her, this strange, almost hungry look on his face. It was giving me the heebies. How could she not notice?

"Coffee," Royce said simply, and grinned at me.

"It'll do." Royce headed towards the kitchen, and I noticed Lauren glaring at me, now not looking innocent at all.

"Wh-y are you…being so ru-de?" she hissed. Well, sort of. Her voice was still completely whacked up.

"Oh, I don't know… I find I have ties to a crazy person, besides those of mutual problems." I'd been thinking about Sam's premonitions for a while now, and what it would mean to me – how it would affect everything. Putting up with Lauren's strange habits was just a minor issue, compared to hunting.

"Wha-t are you… on?"

"Sam had a premonition – actually, a couple of them. That best friend of yours, and that brother of mine? Yeah, destined to be married, have children, the whole shebang."

Lauren gaped at me. Her throat moved, but no words came out.

"This is one of those times I'm sure I should be glad you can't speak."

She glared at me. "Hate," she said simply, and I pretended not to know what she meant.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I opened the door to my motel room. Sam and I had just returned from our walk. I took off my jacket and placed it on the coat hanger which was to the left of the door.

"I know, but I still don't think that he needs to be that extreme," Sam commented on our previous conversation topic. He dropped himself onto the couch and leaned back; he put his hands behind his head with his elbows in the air facing opposite directions. He started to put his feet on the coffee table-

"Wait, take off your shoes first," I reminded him.

He obliged. He pushed one shoe off with his foot and then did the same with the other.

We spent the entire walk just talking about our pasts, him about Jessica, his relationship with his father and how he always fought with him, the childhood he had and how great it was to get to go to university. Me about England, David, and just life in general. Not Eric though, the bastard, even Lauren didn't know about him. None of my friends did. We also discussed our powers, then moved onto normal topics.

I can't believe it was so easy to talk about such emotional things with him. He understood perfectly, and I was able to reciprocate when it was his turn. We'd make life long friends. And just that friends, nothing more, even though I want there to be. Just because I'm attracted to everything about him doesn't mean that he feels the same way, he doesn't. I know that and have accepted that.

"You know," Sam interrupted my stream of memories. "I've only known you a short time but it seems like years."

I smiled at him. "Maybe you have powers of telepathy, it could have rubbed off on you when Lauren was…rubbing herself on you," I teased him. A sudden image of Sam acting on everyone's urges just popped into my head and I began to laugh. Sam must have had the same thought because he did an action that can only be described as a mixture between an embarrassed smile and a shudder. "But in all seriousness, I feel the same way," I told him.

"Good," Sam said. "Because I didn't want to seem like one of those crazy dudes who goes around saying that to everyone he has known for a little longer then three hours."

My eyes wondered away from him and fell onto the table. I saw the journal was left open.

"What's this?" I asked when I noticed an out of place piece of paper sticking out of the open journal, which was on the coffee table.

I leaned forward and took it out. I opened the folded paper and saw that it was a drawing of a woman, the same woman I saw in Sam's past.

"I don't know, let me see," Sam said. He got off the couch and made his way towards me.

"It's a drawing of Jessica," I told him. I handed the paper to him. He didn't even look at it; he just placed it back into the journal.

"Shari-"

"I know," I cut him off from whatever he was going to say. "We've already talked about her. I know that you're over her, and I also know that she will always have a special place in your heart. I know," I said softly, thinking about David. "How can you draw so well?" I asked, desperate to change the depressing subject and defuse the tension in the air. "Every time I draw something it always ends up looking like an evil baby."

"How so?" Sam asked, I could easily tell that he was relieved we had gotten off that topic.

I took a pencil and Lauren's drawing pad, which she has left on the coffee table despite my many complaints and efforts to have it packed neatly in the suitcase. '_Where is that fun in that_?' she'd simply replied before returning the pad to the table.

I got off the chair and sat down on my legs, on the floor.

I opened the pad and started drawing a stick figure man. When I completed that I lifted up the pad to show Sam what I drew. "See," I told him.

Sam laughed. "How? How did you make that look like an evil baby?" he chuckled.

"It's a curse," I said through a sigh.

"You're holding the pencil the wrong way," he said after he was done making fun of me. "Let me show you." He sat down behind me. He pulled his arm around my shoulders and gently placed his hand directly on top of mine. "You have a death grip on the pencil." He remarked from my left shoulder. I felt his breath on my neck and involuntarily shivered.

This hasn't happened to me since…no, it can't be. I can't have fallen in love with Sam, no. I mean, I just met him last night! It's impossible. Sure we could have those discussions we couldn't even have with Lauren, and in his case, Dean. And we could talk about meaningful things, and sentimental moments in our lives, the horrors and the laughs. Just everything, and easily too. But that doesn't mean…no, it just can't…can it?

He, using my hand, picked up the pencil and started to draw. After a few minutes I, well technically he, finished a drawing of tulip.

"Wow, thanks!" I thanked him as I looked at the drawing, ignoring everything I felt. It was simple, yet elegant.

"Welcome," he replied.

I rotated my head to the left to smile at him, he smiled back. I noticed how close my face was to his.

"Well…" all words left my head, leaving me with a blank as I stared into his blue-green eyes.

"Yea..." He seemed to have the same reaction to the current situation as I was. His eyes lowered to my lips. He slowly moved his head forwards until his lips connected with mine.

A sudden burst of power surged through me and I couldn't, no matter what I tried, concentrate on the situation at hand. Two images abruptly entered my mind. One of Sam and I in bed, and the other, the other of us at a wedding…our wedding!

_He's your future husband_, I voiced mentally to myself. I sat there, paralyzed in shock. Sam didn't notice, he continued to kiss me, which was paralyzing in its own right. _What was I_ _**doing**?_

_I need to get out of here_! I stood up, without warning and ran towards the door, opened it and practically flew out. I accidentally bumped into two pedestrians, just outside the door, in my rush to get away from Sam. I mumbled an apology to them without stopping.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I was slightly ecstatic about our find. I mean, imagine, going to the library just to avoid your hormonal friends, and finding out so many things.

The whole informant thing. If he really did know anything useful, it could be a huge help in getting Fiona and Joyee back.

The tea and sleep ideas. I could really use some of both. Even though I've always hated tea. Ugh.

Although Royce didn't have much advice about exercising my empathy, or controlling the whole everyone else's urges issue, he did say that I would be able to handle it all eventually.

I hope he was right.

Dean was carrying me to the motel room. I still couldn't walk without falling flat on my face after two steps, and he'd said it would be far quicker just carrying me, rather than helping me hobble to it. He hadn't really let me have a say about it, not that I _could_ without pain and pauses everywhere.

He stopped just outside where we'd left Sam and Sharika, placing me on the ground. "We don't want to put up with any of their smart ass comments, do we?" he asked, grinning.

I rolled my eyes, clutching at his shoulders to keep myself upright. His hands were at my hips, holding me steady. I looked up, about to attempt a comment on our friends' possible activities (more O.C. shudder , kissing, touching, special favors… etcetera. Not that I actually believed it. Last night Sharika had told me the 'true' story of when Dean and I'd walked in on them and the Macaroni and Cheese, and I must admit, I found the idea of Sharika doing something with Sam remote, because of the way she was), when my eyes connected with his. Empathy jumped through my body. He really wanted to kiss me, but didn't know if I wanted the same. Plus, he didn't want to take advantage of me, the state I was in.

_That's so sweet_… I thought to myself. _And so frustrating. _

He jerked his eyes away, reaching to open the door one handed. But it swung open needless of his effort. Sharika, scared shitless, bumped into Dean and me. And now, AGAIN, I was plummeting towards the ground. She mumbled an apology without stopping.

"Got…to stop – doing this," I moaned, as Dean caught me. "Head – whoosh." I held onto his shoulders, eyes closed. "Up," I demanded.

"Your wish is my command." I sighed as he pulled me up. After he did that we looked around the room to see a very confused Sam sitting on the floor, looking dazedly at the door.

"So, Sammy, what did you do to the poor girl?" Dean asked with curiosity.

"I don't know, we were –" he suddenly stopped talking, reluctant to continue.

"Go…on," I encouraged Sam to finish. I already knew, but Dean didn't…and I just wanted to torture him. It's a me thing. If no one else will give you jollies, make them yourself.

"We kissed," he said, looking away in embarrassment. "Then her body jerked, she got up and took off."

"Oh," I realized. "She had a…pre-moni-tion. Must have been future…based. Other-wise…she wouldn't…have been all…'running out of the room-y'," I explained to the two boys.

"You think she got the same one as Sammy did?" Dean asked me.

"Yes," I replied. I gave them this look that always made Sharika very nervous. It involved nodding my head very slowly, my eyes looking at them like they were insane, but still having an understanding and very straight face. You have to see it to understand. I was doing it, a) to see their reaction, and b) because I just felt like it…there is a valid reason, but I've already forgotten it. _Getting my own – _oh that's right! When I know my innocent look isn't going to work, I just use that one and I'll get my own way anyways.

Simple. And effective.

"Don't look at me like that!" Dean said, like Shar always does. "It's weird."

Sam just looked all alarmed.

"Take me…to Shar-ika," I said, my crappy voice making me sound even scarier.

"Right," Dean said, nodding. He picked me up again.

"Stay," I commanded Sam. He nodded too.

Men. Just like puppies, except that most of them don't pee on the floor.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I found myself at the park, out of breath, with my head resting in my hands, whilst sitting on the bench. There wasn't anyone there, just me. Good, I can't afford any distractions now.

_OH MY GOD_! My head screamed. _What do I do now_?

I mean, it's not like I could go back to the apartment after what happened.

I heard footsteps ahead of me and looked up, partially hoping that it was Sam curious to why I just freaked out.

I looked up to see that it was Lauren, and I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, as horrible as it sounds.

∞∞

_Lauren_

We'd followed Sharika to the park next to our motel. She'd passed several benches, before coming to sit in this one, and she was now staring at a tree nearby, muttering to herself.

Dean placed me on the bench next to her, eyeing at Shar's rigid profile. "Call me when you want to come back," he whispered, not even out of breath. What was he, Superman in plaid and leather? Jeez.

He put his number in my phone, and headed back to the motel to take care of Sam.

I looked around. This place was really beautiful, so peaceful. I wish I was here just for the sake of it, rather than being here on my own Mission Impossible. Getting Sharika out of her denial? Yeah…not going to happen any time soon.

I glanced at Shar. The visions must have really shaken her up. Well, can you imagine seeing yourself marrying some guy you hardly know? Seriously.

"So…" I started, and swallowed to try and ease my throat. How long was this creaky, croaky, old voice going to last anyway!?!? I thought the tea was supposed to work – then again… I didn't really drink any of it. "You and – Sam."

I waited a few seconds, bracing myself for her inevitable outburst. And this time I couldn't even do anything about it like slap her or call her a whore. Stupid ass voice, stupid ass empathy powers, stupid ass –

"Lauren! We were – there was – it was the kind of wedding I've always told you I wanted. A mix of Bengali and English culture. It was perfect. And – I loved him in it! I was happy and security – I mean secure." She put her face in her hands, breathing deeply.

I smiled at her back. "Yeah… So why di-d you… run 'way?"

"It was – I was startled. I mean, I have known Sam in realty - I mean - reality, for two days. Even less!"

Oh, she's hiding something from me, I thought to myself. And I don't even have to be an empath to know it. It's called best friend intuition.

And the fact that SHARIKA was STUTTERING. Freaky.

"Right…. Do you – love him?" Admit it, _admit it. _Go on, I DARE you.

"Lauren, how can I? We've known each other for less than two days! TWO DAYS! I don't even believe in love at first sight! It's not love, it's LUST! It's ridiculous. One can't fall in love in a matter of hours! Besides, we're in the middle of fighting this demon. It's unpractical."

"Un…practic-al. I see." I sighed and leant back against the bench. "Shar, I know – you do. Feel ever-y-thing. Emp-ath…you kn-ow."

"Well, he doesn't love me, I know he doesn't. He loves Jessica. She's so beautiful, and I'm so ugly, she's tall, I'm short, she has a great smile and when I smile I look like a cross between a snarling dog and a clown! I could never compete with her. How could he ever love _me_? _Why_ would he love me? I'm not good enough for him. He doesn't have to know about my feelings."

_DO YOU WANT TO BE SLAPPED?? SELF-PITY IS SO… Besides, he'd be lucky to have you, bitch!_

Of course, I couldn't say any of that right now. She'd ignore it.

And, if I tried yelling, well, I'd have no idea what would happen, and I was not willing to find out.

"Look Lauren," she began to point out. "This is my first relationship that is the tiniest bit romantic, at least it seems that way to me. The first guy I've ever liked this much…other then David. And I have no idea how to react to this! For god's sakes Lauren, no guy has ever asked me out before! No guy has ever liked me! And no guy ever will like me! That's my mentality. I'm not good enough, okay? And now this guy, this perfect, intelligent, handsome man is interested in me! It just doesn't seem real, it can't be real, and…and…" she couldn't get the rest of her words out due to distress. "Anyways, I'm fine on my own, always have been." Sharika finally turned to face me. Her big, fake smile faltered. "Lauren! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Oh sure, _now_ you notice. After you're all, _I'm fine alone, always have been_. I was never going to tell her how much _that_ particular sentence had hurt. "Look… that bad – do I?" I smiled tiredly at her. "Just – mishap… naughty naughty… not ex-ercising my p-owers."

"How did you get down here!? I'm going to go get one of them to take you back. Don't move!"

'No' I started to say, but she was already gone. I rolled my eyes, and retrieved my phone from my pocket. "Read-y when you…are Superman."

∞∞

_Sharika_

As I walked back towards the apartment I noticed Dean tending to Lauren. 'Talk to him,' my conscience advised me. I nodded to myself. But I couldn't help but think back, think back to David.

_Flashback_

"_David, can we just go watch the movie already, we don't need popcorn!" I complained loudly in the kitchen next to him._

"_No," he replied for the third time. "It'll only take a second!"_

_I sighed. David and his obsession with popcorn! He looked up and grinned his cheeky smile at me. My knee's felt weak every time he did that. He had short black hair, tan skin, brown eyes and an athletic figure. His personality was that of a determined, shrewd comedian._

_I fell for him almost instantly, that's so unlike me! I, I think I'm in love with him. I could tell him anything that was weighing down on my with ease, and when I had a hard day his smile could easily energize me. And today, today will be the day I finally tell him of my feelings._

"_Just hurry!" I told him, I lightly hit him on the shoulder. _

"_Almost done," he said. "We've got all the time in the worl-"_

_There was a sizzling noise from the microwave. We both looked up at it. A thunderous bang came from the microwave. I winched and ducked, my hands over my head, confused at what was going on. I felt parts of me fading away. _

"_What the?" I muttered under my breath when I found myself in the familiar surrounding of the living room. "How did I get here? DAVID!" I dashed into the kitchen._

_There was smoke every where, I coughed and searched for David._

"_DAVID, ANSWER ME!" I yelled. No reply, this couldn't be good._

_My foot hit something fleshy. I immediately bent down over it. It was David, he lay slumped down on the floor, his face was burnt badly and his skin considerably darker. I turned him to his side and looked for a beating pulse. I couldn't find any._

"_David, no, please, you can't," I whispered to him. "Don't…"_

_End of Flashback_

The FBI took his body away, which I thought was odd considering that it was clearly an accident. His family had moved away the day after the funeral, and I'd never seen any of them again.

After, there was the question that had occupied my mind to this day, five years after the incident – _How did I get to the living room_?

∞∞

_Dean_

Lauren was simply looking at me as I came towards her.

"What?" I asked, as she continued to look at me, blankly. I flashbacked to last night – when we'd first met, and after that face she'd knocked me out. "What did I do this time?" I backed away slowly, hands in front of my body in the 'I mean no harm' posture.

"I don't kn-ow. You…just – feel weird. Diffe-rent."

"What do you mean?" I wondered if she realised how I was feeling about the whole, Sam going to get married thing. It was a confused mixture of emotions; happiness, envy, love and sadness. I didn't understand it fully myself, so I was doing what I do best – repressing. She was probably still feeling it though. It had only hit me as I was standing outside Sam's door, debating with myself whether or not to go inside, so I would feel different, I guess. She'd called me back before Sam and I had really talked about anything, so… I knew that I wanted Sam to be happy, to have a normal life, but just…he's leaving me behind, you know? I squashed all these thoughts back down, looking at Lauren, who was studying me with an understanding air.

"Meh. Help." Obviously, she didn't feel like explaining, anymore than I felt like sharing.

I picked her up again, her weight settling against my chest. She looked up at me, and I felt that surge I got every time I touched her. I didn't understand what _that _was about. Maybe it was my instincts coming into play against her empath powers. She smiled. I shook my head, and headed back towards the motel, yet again, deciding not to think about anything at all from now until tonight, when we'd have to scope out that address. It was too much effort, for no gain at all.

∞∞

_Sam_

Dean got a call from Lauren and left to help her. And as for Sharika, I had no idea where she could be, it could range from the park to the top of the empire state building, considering her powers.

I sighed and slumped against the couch. How could she just run away? She didn't even explain why she got up and left. Lauren did say that the premonitions were probably the cause, but…I don't know. When I got the premonitions I didn't run away! I stayed and acted like a rational adult. That concept was obviously lost on her. But then again, I did have time to mull it over. And it also helps that we talked about something completely unrelated to supernatural things, so I could get to know her better outside the _mission_ we were on.

But non-the-less it was still a shock to me. I'm not going to rationalize what she did. If she is running out on our relationship now, what will it be like in five years?

And the premonition only showed me as far as our honeymoon, no later then that, so how do I know that I'm not going to divorce her? All this will be pointless.

_Sam you bitch, since when did you become such a chick, oh wait, you've always been one, when did you become such a wimp?_ Dean's angry voice worked its way into my head.

Great, not only do I have to deal with supernatural crap, saving Dad, getting back the remains of a normal life I had _and_ trying to work out what my next move concerning this 'future wife' issue, I now have that jerk in my head insulting me. It seems that my subconscious doesn't believe that he does that to me enough in person. I seriously need a good job to pay for the therapy bills I'm going to need in the very near future.

_All the premonitions you've had were important,_ Dean's voice told me. _Don't ignore them now just because you're scared_.

I'm not scared, just curious. And all the premonitions I've had, they were given to me so I could stop them, what makes this so different?

_Because dude,_ I could hear the grin in his voice, _You're getting laid in this premonition. Unless they were warning you about getting crabs why would you want to stop them, I wouldn't. _

I'm still mad at her, I thought to myself. And she knew I was into her from the moment she sat on my lap. How could she miss _that_ reaction of mine?

_Easily, considering the size of said reaction, and dude, honestly, you're dealing with a girl who is obviously still a virgin. How would she know? She doesn't exactly seem like the teasing type to me, I doubt that she's actually had many relationships before._

Fine, she missed my reaction, but what about the conversations we've had? They were deep and meaningful, and some just random. I actually think I know more about her then Lauren does. The connection we had, she definitely couldn't have missed that.

_Yeah, no more chick flick moments please. I don't want to hear you're sob story, you know you're going to get together with her anyway, in more ways then one. Stop over thinking this and live in the present._

That's it! The voice has got to go!I shook my head.

_You think _that _would get rid of me, dude? You underestimate me Sammy. I thought you knew me better than that._

It seems I have. I stood up, knowing what I have to do even though it will hurt, collecting items I could use to- "Sam?"

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Sam?" I called out unsurely from the doorway.

He was standing in the middle of the living room, picking his belongings up. I walked in and closed the door behind me. "Please don't leave," I requested him.

He stood still and put all his stuff on the table. "What do you want Sharika?" he asked in annoyed tones.

I refrained from wincing; after all, I deserved that. I gestured for him to sit down on the couch. He did as I asked. Then he jumped back up again, and started to pace the length of the room.

"I don't get you!" he exclaimed angrily. "You give me all these signals that you're interested in me and the moment we kiss you take off!"

"Sam, I know," I told him as I was paced the opposite way he did, from behind the couch.

"Know what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I got the two premonitions off you," I replied, knowing fully well that he'd understand what I meant.

"Oh," he replied. "That's what Dean and Lauren guessed."

"I need to explain something to you." I started to say, ignoring the fact that Lauren and Dean knew. I'm guessing that Sam told Dean, and Dean in turn told Lauren. "I've never had a relationship before. I mean I had relationships but not romantic ones. And when I did form a crush on someone it was always unrequited. So I'm used to liking form afar. But with you, with you it's so much more then a crush. And then I get these two visions, I freaked out." I finished off lamely.

"I did too, but you didn't see me running away," he argued, finally standing still and facing me.

"I know. I didn't handle the situation well. And, I've always believed in practical matters. I've never been able to buy into the 'love at first sight' crap. It's not real, it can't be. Good relationships are the result of time and effort. Not walking into a room and acting impulsively. Spontaneity is a good thing, but it's only useful in situations such as bungee jumping, or a quick fix decision, it never works in the long run." I walked around the couch and sat down, patting the space next to me. He sat down. "You're going to be my husband, the father of my children. It's a lot to take in."

"I know," he repeated.

"And, how do you really feel about me?" I asked, feeling the desperate urge to know. I hoped, against reason, that he would feel the same way. But non-the-less I braced myself for rejection.

"I'm," he paused. "I'm falling in love with you." He looked away from me. "No, I'm already in love with you."

I was stunned. I didn't expect this answer, not in a millions years. _He loves you_, my head repeated over and over. A bubble of euphoria burst inside me. Once I got over the initial shock I took a deep breath and responded.

"I love you too," I told him shyly, truly believing in the words as soon as they left my mouth. I couldn't believe how easy it was to say. He turned his head to face me and stared deeply into my eyes, almost as if to see whether or not I was lying.

"I never thought I'd ever fall this hard or this fast for someone," I said, and smiled lightly.

His eyes became more intense as he gazed at me. Reached out with his hands, he held the sides of my face, and brought my mouth to his. He kissed me, sweetly at first, and then with growing passion. This time, I kissed him back.

∞∞

_Lauren_

So. Here we are again.

But this time, we decided to play it safe. No more running in on scenes like the last one we'd almost witnessed.

Sam and Sharika kissing. Ugh.

It makes me green just thinking about it. In more ways than one. I notice I'M not being kissed.

We listened carefully at the door, but it was silent.

_Phew._

I smiled at Dean, relieved, and he opened the door.

∞∞

_Dean_

I opened the door, and helped Lauren enter. She was still as weak as a new born kitten. Which was still scaring me.

I finally looked around, only to see a perfectly rounded, black and pink covered ass rise next to the couch.

It was connected to my future sister-in-law.

I stared in fascination as Sharika's body moved, not even noticing Lauren or me standing in the doorway. I would have enjoyed it a lot more, a hot woman almost naked, except for the fact that she was going to marry Sam.

I heard a muffled thump and looked at Lauren, only to see her staring in the same way I had been.

She met my eyes and I grinned, then went back to watching. She jabbed me with her elbow, and I tried to ignore her. A click reverberated through the room. I'd know that sound anywhere.

∞∞

_Lauren_

OHhhh. Not cool. Not cool at all. At all!

WE WERE TRYING TO AVOID SUCH SITUATIONS!

The click of bra fastenings being undone registered in my brain; wow. This trip has really changed both of us, I mean; I for one am obviously becoming less oversexed, and Sharika, more so.

Which is sad really, considering I didn't want to STOP being my oversexed self, and it's really not fair of Shar to be laying down with some guy she barely knows who is going to become her husband, and me getting none, while she does it in front of –

Wait, halt rant. I don't want to see my best friend's breasts. So I'll just –

I pushed at Dean, trying to get him to backtrack out of the room – he was a little too engrossed for my liking. And I DID NOT WANT TO SEE!!!!

I shoved as hard as I could, and was finally able to make him take a step back, the force of it causing us to fall to the ground. I landed on his chest, my face all mashed up against it. Not really what I wanted, I mean, he could at least be naked, or half naked, damn him. Okay – I must be really tired. I should not be thinking of such things.

"I fee-l cold. Why do…I feel co-ld?"

Dean peered up at me, an amused expression on his face. "Jacket?"

"Crap!" I glared at the door. Stupid America. GROW SOME WARM AIR ALREADY. "In-side," I said, gesturing towards the door. I sighed. It was probably not a good idea to go in _there_. "Take m-e back," I ordered, referring to Sam and Dean's room – or should I say Dean and my room now, seeing how this one is no doubt going to become Sharika's and _Sam's_ room considering their current activities, and I am not ready to move in with DEAN of all people, I mean that would just be ugh. Sharika would probably help me order another room with her negotiating tactics and strategies when she would go talk to the guy who owned this place. I hope she gives him hell for the cockroaches and –

"With pleasure," Dean said, grinning. He stood, scooping me up and heading back towards the room we had just left – Sharika and _Sam's _room.

I held onto his arm, trying to stop him. "You wa-nt to…see – brother nak-ed?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Sam was in there?"

"Did y-ou th-ink Sh…arika was pl-ayin-g with her-se-lf?"

"Uh, yeah. I was actually enjoying that concept."

I kicked him, as well as I could from this position – it was obviously hard enough, as he let out a yell.

∞∞

_Sharika_

An anguished cry snapped my concentration out of my…current activities. I looked up at the door, where the source of the noise was. There were muffled voices outside of the door, and then footsteps leading away from the door.

"Sharika," Sam called out, I returned my attention back onto him. Gently holding onto my arm, he led me back to our previous positions. But something bothered me. There was something not quite right with the picture.

I broke off the kiss again and glanced at the door. _What's different?_ I wondered to myself, and then I noticed it. At the base of the door lay Lauren's jacket.

"Oh…my…god!" I whispered, horrified. _THEY WERE HERE!_

"That was them!" I exclaimed to Sam. I abruptly stood up and paced back and forth. "That means, oh GOD! That means they saw us! OH MY GOD!" I stopped pacing and took a glimpse of Sam.

He was leaning back, propped up on his elbows with a flushed and clearly confused face. His fringe was plastered to his forehead while the rest was atrociously untidy. He was breathing through his mouth, trying to calm himself I guess. Even in my current panicked state I couldn't help noticing how cute he looked.

What was I doing?! I've only known him for two days! TWO DAYS! Even less! And I know we know everything about each other and my feelings were based on more then just physical attraction, I did truly love him. But reality wise, I haven't known him that long. But since when does love have a restraint placed on it? I can't have…have…se- I can't sleep with him! _You're just not sleeping with him, you're making love with him,_ a voice in my head piped up. I know that I love him, and that he claims to love me but this is way too soon. Married couples are supposed to do this as an act of love, not two _future_ newly weds consummating their lust!

How do I know if I'm ready or not? It's a huge commitment, and it's a very sentimental process. I know that he is my future husband and all but, it's too soon. I'm only twenty one! I just had my first kiss TODAY! And now I'm going to lose my virginity?! It's nonsensical! You are supposed to give the person you love your virginity, to show them that you trust them completely, enough for them to share an extremely important experience with you by…you know! _But you do love him, and you do trust him completely_. The annoying voice in my head reminded me.

And what about protection? It's not like I carry condoms in my purse, although there was this incident one day where I had to because Lauren filled her own room with them and had to place the rest with me. It was because she won this contest at her 'friend' Andrew's house. I didn't really want any details. She didn't even have the courtesy to tell be about it. And, unknowingly, I had taken that exact purse to coaching. There my mobile rang, since I was at the board solving a question I asked Anika to answer it. When she opened the purse the condoms flew! FLEW! The condoms flew out of the purse and scattered all over the floor! It would have been one thing if they were just plain condoms but no, there had to be a variety, ribbed, kiwi flavored, extra thin and crap! That was the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me.

Well, other then the time I was drowning in front of the whole school during the swimming carnival in year seven, and as a result had to be rescued by the fattest teacher, twice! It was all those stupid SRC's fault. _You don't need to know how to swim_, they said, _all you have to do is jump in to get our house a few points_. They forced me to jump in. Stupid SRC's! I took the damn plunge and nearly drowned!

But back to the current situation! I can't sleep with him; I love him and will marry him one day but… _But what?_ The irritating voice in my head asked me. Because…because…I'm so flustered that I can't think.

Could I handle it? I've heard that when you first lose it, it feels like your stomach is tearing, that's how bad the pain is. And I'm the type of person who sulks for five minutes because I stubbed my toe.

_It seems like to me that you're just making excuses not to go through with it, even though you are totally ready_. The voice stated simply. _You're too scared to make yourself vulnerable._

'No I'm not!' I argued mentally.

_Yes you are, all your life you always had some one to lean on incase you got hurt, your dad, Lauren, Fiona, Joyee, an endless list of people._

'So I like safety nets! What's wrong with that?'

_There isn't until you're afraid of trying something new; they can't always be there to hold your hand._

'Well obviously!' I agreed, still fighting the voice inside my head. 'But this has nothing to do with that!'

_There'll always be risks when you are trying something new. But you'll see that when people take risks, no matter what the outcome is, they are happy they took it. You know that you are going to spend the rest of your life with this man, so you know that there aren't any risks, what's really holding you back?_

'It's just too soon,' I told the voice.

_Since when has that ever stopped you? You do what you want, when you want. Don't you even remember your 'wild' behavior in England? That just brings us back to the main question, what are you really afraid of?_

I already knew the answer, to that. 'What am I supposed to do now?' I questioned it. The voice didn't reply. Oh sure, condemn me when I'm panicking and am in desperate need of comfort but totally abandon me when I actually need help.

"This is way too fast for me, I can't go through with it," I muttered to myself over and over again, choosing to ignore the voice.

I took another peek at Sam's face. He was simply staring at me in concern; he made no attempt to coerce me back to where I was. He wasn't even the tiniest bit mad. He was just waiting. Waiting for me

_He does really love you_. The voice told me.

I resumed my pacing. I knew what I was really afraid of. I've been raised my whole life to face the fact that life has no guarantees. It's too unpredictable, I always said this but I never understood it. I learnt about it the hard way.

_David_, the voice whispered.

Yes, David. His death was a completely horrendous shock. And, I don't know what will happen with Sam. True we do get married, but how do I know that we won't divorce. And since when did premonitions become a hundred percent reliable? The future is constantly changing. And, and whenever I get a premonition I have to stop it from happening. What if this was just like that?

_By the premonition itself, it was a happy one. It wasn't of people dying or crying out in pain, it was of eternal love._

I knew the voice was right, well partially right, I've never bought the whole 'forever in love' concept. There is always a chance to get hurt, especially when it involves other people. But it all boils down to one question; does the possible result matter more than your fear of getting hurt? Keeping in mind that the result one is yearning after rarely comes by.

"Screw it!" I yelled out and marched into the bedroom and slammed it shut behind me. I opened it again a few moments' later, popped my head and asked Sam "Well, are you coming in or not?"

He jumped up and practically broke the sound barrier in his rush to the bedroom. Once he was in the bedroom he scooped me up in his arms and shut the door with his foot. I laughed; I've never seen anyone act like this before.

I placed my hands in his long hair and drew his face down to mine. Learning from my past mistakes, as Sam carried me to the bed, I locked the door using my powers.

∞∞

_Dean_

We sat down on the couch in the room that had originally been Sammy's and mine, staring into space.

"And to think," I said into the silence. "She seems so innocent. It's kind of a turn on actually." I didn't actually mean it, Sharika wasn't my type, she was a nice girl, which is good and all. It's just that I like my women to be more…wild, anyway she was perfect for Sammy, and I couldn't be happier for him. As for me, I was simply doing it to annoy Lauren. She didn't disappoint. I grinned as I caught her disgusted look, and the cushion hurled at my head. I looked her over as though I hadn't secretly (and not so secretly) been checking her out the whole day, thinking back to Sharika's bra, with its three little pink roses. "Yea," I said, trying to sound sad, but I was only amused. "She looks better in it."


	6. So This Is Why You Want To Marry Her

Disclaimer: We don't own supernatural, or as yet, the Winchesters. If you've been holding your breath, waiting for it to happen, you'll probably be holding it until you die so – you might want to breathe now! See chapter one for the blather.

Commentary, Chapter Six:

Shar: I can't believe I had to wear that…

Lozz: Karaoke?!? KARAOKE?!?! ME?!?

Shar: Lauren, it was your idea.

Lozz: Hey, you're right. And I did a damn good job too. _Hot blooded, check it and see…_

Shar: Why did you drag me up there? Why did I have to dance? You know how much I hate dancing!

Lozz: Blah, blah, blah. We've been over this a billion times.

Shar: (sighs) Still don't own anything remotely connected to Supernatural.

Lozz: Except…no, not even that. Oh, look! The sky is blue!!

Shar: (shakes her head sadly)

**CHAPTER SIX**

**So This Is Why You Want To Marry Her**

_I've got to got to put my move on  
Get my groove on I get down with my shoes on  
I'm just a freak everyday of the week  
I need to find a new girl to come play with me  
Here kitty kitty we can get busy  
You're so young and oh so pretty  
So gimme gimme that sauce girl aw girl  
Maybe we could hit it off girl  
_I'm A Player – The K.G.B.

_Lauren_

It was a pub.

The kind that bikers and truckers go to, for brawling experience, broken appendages, and scalding liquid that gives the kind of headaches that most of the sane population only have nightmares about.

It was dark. It was smelly. It had a small stage next to the bar, with three poles set in very advantageous positions around it. Three guesses what THEY are for – and no, truck drivers and bikers do not enjoy the occasional pole dance after work. (When its them doing it that is.)

It was also the address Royce had given us.

Dean had told me what to dress in, having scoped out the place while I was sleeping off my empathy scorching, and Sam and Sharika were…busy.

So I was wearing my shortest denim skirt, black fishnet stockings, and a very tight, very ripped revealingly down the front white shirt. The slogan 'Got Milk?' was sprawled across my bust, and my hair was loose, in all its crazy waves and curls and ringlets. The purple push up bra that made my chest practically shout 'LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME' – as if the rest of my ensemble hadn't already done that – and white ankle boots completed my outfit.

It was my Halloween costume from last year, when I'd taken my little brother Jordan trick-or-treating.

Fortunately, I'd been able to hide it all underneath my biggest, bulkiest, longest jacket.

Unfortunately, I had to remove it now, and face the comments from Dean that were sure to follow. I glanced over at a similarly long-jacket clad Sharika, and pulled a face at her. She grimaced back, and as one we unzipped them, throwing them into the back of the car.

Sharika was wearing a tight black corset, which was held together (barley) by a series of buttons at the front, that stopped centimeters above her belly button, and the pink roses in her bra peeping out of the top of it. _Jeez, she didn't even have the decency to change her outfit, but then again, I didn't actually give her much time to change... _She had on a short pink and black checkered skirt, with a fake belly bar and strappy stilettos to complete her 'look'.

Dean and Sam stared at us. (Well, actually, Sam glared sullenly at Sharika glancing from her, to the bar and back again, and Dean stared at my breasts.)

"So..." Dean began his teasing slowly, and despite myself I felt a hot flush spread over my body. "Remind me again how 'Got Milk' is an insult?"

Dean and Sam were wearing their normal clothes. It's so unfair how guys can show up in anything and be dressed for the occasion. Girls have too many different outfit rules. (Notice how I've decided to ignore that jibe of his and move on, like a mature, responsible adult? ...Yea, I'll get him later.)

"We can't go in," Sam said suddenly, looking kind of – I can't really describe it. Sort of like he wanted to cover Sharika in a blanket and carry her far, far away from this bar, where all the men were probably going to check her out. Can't blame him, I mean, she was his future wife and all. And she was wearing what she was wearing. Yeah…Okay then. "I, um, forgot my wallet."

"No you didn't," Shar reassured him, reaching into his back pocket and pulling said wallet out. "It's right here." Suddenly she shivered. Way to make me feel even colder, Shar. "I'm freezing."

"Yea," I said, rubbing my arms as I watched Sam's arms come down around Shar's shoulders. "Let's do this."

"It's not cold," Sam and Dean said in unison. I eyed their warm jackets with jealousy, and yelled mentally at them – HELLO!??! DO YOU WANT TO WEAR WHAT _WE_ ARE WEARING OUT HERE?!? And then I smirked, seeing Dean in fishnets, and a short skirt. In some ways, it was hilarious - in others, far, far too disturbing. Not knowing my thoughts, Dean looked at me after studying the S's. He grinned. "You might be safer if we follow their example."

My nose shot up into the air. "I don't need a_ man_ to protect me. I can look after myself. Come on Sharika," I growled, and grabbed her arm, heading towards the pub.

Besides, with the way Shakira here was looking, no guy was going to look twice at ME.

Despite all that, my nerves started to tighten as we walked inside. I hoped no one inside would be too grabby, or too drunk. And then – I mean – what if what we found out wasn't good news? What if the demon had decided to try a different tactic and had – had done something to Fiona and Joyee? God. I can't bear to think about it.

Classic rock hit my ears as we stepped inside. At least it's got that going for it. Bad Company by Bad Company. They have a small amount of taste. I'm surprised.

I grinned at the sight of Sharika wincing. Dean was nodding his head along to the beat, looking around with interest. (There were many women scattered around, wearing the same kind of thing Shar and I were – and looking far more comfortable.)

∞∞

_Sam_

Lauren led the way to the bar, holding her head up high with a false sense of ownership, Dean walking with her but far enough to not be considered as part of the group, Sharika followed next, her hands crossed over her chest and her shoulders slumped over. I was bringing up the rear, the last in this 'line'.

"Hey Babe!" a deep voice greeted Lauren.

I looked up just in time to see a bearded man walk up behind Lauren and slap her on the ass.

The slap resonated throughout the pub. Through the corner of my eye I saw Dean wince slightly. Ha, I knew it, he likes her. I could see a vein start to pulse in his forehead. I'm used to seeing him meet a girl for one night and drop her the next day. It was a new experience for me to see Dean start to like anyone. The protective thing though – that was natural to everyone he meets.

I was the same really, with a hero complex.

Lauren turned around slowly, with a sweet smile on her face. It would have fooled anyone who had not been exposed to it before. The bearded man grinned down at her.

Quick as lighting she lifted her arm and thrust it forward, into that man's face. The force of the punch instantly knocked the man out cold. He fell backwards, into a waitress who was carrying drinks on a tray. She stumbled, then sidestepped, but managed to keep a steady grip on the tray.

"You go GIRLFRIEND!" A high pitched woman's voice yelled. The rest of the females in the pub, and a few drunken men cheered along with her.

Lauren smiled and went back to walking towards the bar.

I grabbed Sharika's shoulders and pulled her back, closer towards me, and didn't let go. She didn't resist, as we walked around the unconscious man.

I didn't think that either of us wanted _that_ to happen to Shar.

Dean, taking it upon himself to stop further actions such as the previous one, quickly made his way to Lauren's side and put his arm around her.

"That's gonna annoy her," Sharika told me in low tones.

"I know," I replied.

Sharika took my hands off her shoulder and held them in her own for a second before pulling them to the base of her neck and resting them there.

"There he is!" Lauren called out, she swiftly left Dean and rushed towards the bar, where a clean shaven man was sitting wearing a green t-shirt, which said 'I never apologize. I'm sorry, that's just the way I am' in white lettering, and khaki pants.

The rest of us followed hurriedly.

"Hi, Royce told us to meet you here," Dean said, looking at him unfavorably, not that I blame him. Something about this man exuded arrogance and sleaziness.

"Yeah, he called me today, don't know who you are, don't care. What do you want?" he asked rudely.

"We want your info," Dean replied. He sat down across from him and motioned for the bartender to give him a pint of beer.

"And what info is that?" the man asked curiously.

"Don't play coy with us," Lauren leaned in towards him. This caused her bust to become even more prominent under his chin. I looked up at the ceiling, uncomfortable, then looked back down, but away from Lauren's chest.

The informant didn't even glance down; instead his eyes wavered over to Dean and his hunched figure.

Lauren and Sharika stared at him curiously. Obviously they hadn't met a man who could resist Lauren's…charms…

"Oh," Lauren said as she realized why her appendages weren't working the way she had hoped. Sharika glanced at her curiously. Lauren had an expression of revelation on her face.

"Oh? OH!" Sharika now knew what was going on. Whatever it was.

Lauren caught Dean's eye and jerked her head towards the informant, who she then smiled at innocently when he turned her way, as though she hadn't moved from the standing pose she was in.

Dean sent her a confused look as the bartender served him his drink.

Lauren mouthed something to him, as the informant glanced at Dean again, then she resumed her smiling. How can she smile like that all the time without her cheeks freezing in that position? My own are starting to hurt, just looking at her.

'What?' Dean mouthed back, and then quickly looked up at the informant, not noticing the peculiar looks he was receiving from him.

Lauren ignored him. "Tell us what we want to know and we'll leave you alone."

The informant stopped looking at Dean and replied to Lauren.

While he was distracted Shar leant forward and whispered something into Dean's ear. He looked shocked at first, then disgusted. He fervently shook his head. Sharika gave him a 'you've got no choice in this matter look'. A look I have a hunch that I'll be getting a lot in the future.

He frowned at Sharika before turning on his most charming smile, a smile he uses on girls he wants to pick up. What the?

Sharika tugged on my shirt. I looked down at her, giving her a look of curiosity. "He's gay," she whispered.

Oh, now I get it. Ha, I'm never going to let Dean live this down. I stifled my smile and looked back at the pointless conversation Lauren was having with the informant.

"I would really appreciate any help," Dean told him, adding a wink at the end. I could see him dying a little inside, and I loved it.

The informant raised his head in interest and took in the difference in Dean's posture. He smiled in a way I could only describe as coy. "Well," he said, as though with great reluctance. "I need entertainers for my crowd tonight. My girls and guys are out sick"

"Okay, I'm sure we could help, it turns out that our little Lauren here –" Lauren scowled at Dean over the informant's shoulder, and he completely ignored her. "– is quite the performer."

The informant looked disappointed momentarily, then proceeded to look over Lauren with disinterest. "She'll do."

∞∞

_Lauren_

"I'm _not_ pole dancing," I stated simply, crossing my arms over my breasts. "It is _not_ gonna happen."

"I don't care how you do it, just do it. My clients are getting restless."

And suddenly I was shoved on stage, a glaring light in my eyes, and over thirty bikers looking me over.

OHhhh….

I am _so _not doing this by myself.

I scrambled back off stage, and grabbed Sharika. "Hot Blooded by Foreigner," I growled at our informant, and now I was back on stage – this time with Shar.

She stood as I had, looking over the sea of faces as though she was going to faint. "Come on," I whispered to her, and walked as calmly as possible over to the microphone. "You dance, I'll sing."

"Why do I have to dance? Why did you drag me one stage, I mean, you could have done this by yourself," Sharika asked, looking at the crowd, her expression calm and blank. She was mega-pissed.

"Shut up," I hissed, and smiled fragilely at the bikers and truckies who were starting to mutter amongst themselves. "I am not going to do this by myself – what kind of friend would you be to make me do that?!"

Sharika gave me this evil look out of the corner of her eye; when she realized I was not backing down on this, she sullenly nodded, squaring her shoulders.

All the lights in the bar turned off, except for the one of us. Way to go, make me more nervous and likely to pee my pants why don't you?

I smiled sweetly at the audience and turned the mic on. "You guys are in for a treat," I cooed into the microphone. "For the first and last time ever, we are going to perform just for you."

The whole bar considered me silently. WOOT. Exciting. I stood frozen, smiling my huge, fake smile.

"Lauren," Sharika whispered to me, "Tell the music guys to hit it, or something."

My smile widened until I felt as though it was going to crack my face in half. "Hit it boys!" I shouted, and the familiar sounds of Hot Blooded started up.

I held the mic in one nervously sweating hand, and started to shuffle to the beat. Awkward….

Oh god, what if I'm really bad and they throw peanuts at me? Or peanuts and beer?

"_Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see,_" I began, the words flowing into my brain easily. When I love songs, I remember the lyrics. Well, in this case, I knew the lyrics because I loved the song AND listened to it at least once every day. (I love this song.) "_Got a fever of a hundred and three,_" the words came out as beautifully as they came in. I started to relax. "_Come on baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, hot blooded._"

I saw a few heads start to nod in the audience, and Sharika started to move next to me. She's quite a good dancer actually, although the opportunities I've had to see her do so, I could count on one hand.

"_You don't have to read my mind, to know what I have in mind,_" I sang, giving the audience an arch look. A guy in the front grinned up at me. Cute – for a biker. "_Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line. I wanna know what you're doin' after the show."_

This was kind of fun – if you didn't think of the possibility of peanuts and beer hurtling at your head. Or what you're wearing. _Can they see up my skirt?!_

"_Now it's up to you, can we make a secret rendezvous?_" I sang, taking a discreet step backwards. Singing was hard – the music was only backing track, so it was just me singing. Singing along with the artist is easy – being the artist? Not so much.

"_Just me and you_..."

∞∞

_Dean_

"They're quite good," our informant complimented, referring to the girls on stage.

I didn't expect this to turn out the way it did. Considering what I knew of the girls before hand, I would have thought Sharika would be the one singing, and Lauren would be the one dancing…adventurously. I looked in Sammy's direction. He looked half awestruck by his girlfriend, and half annoyed at the fact that she was – _entertaining_ bikers and truckies in such a manner.

"Yeah," I agreed, looking at Lauren. It almost seemed like she was enjoying herself. "You got what you wanted, now will you tell us what we need to know?"

"Fine. 49 Prescott Street, by the art museum. You can't miss it."

"What about it?" I questioned, tearing my eyes away from the girls on stage – Sharika had just grabbed a pole, which was hot and all, but at the same time kind of disturbing, seeing how she's my future sister in law, and she was…making use of it…

"You'll find what you're looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Look for the blue man," the guy said cryptically, and left.

I turned my attention back to the stage. Hot Blooded, I groaned to myself mentally. It had to be Hot Blooded. That is – it's my favorite song, well, one of my favorite songs.

"Well, this is unexpected," Sam commented from next to me, breaking me out of my daze.

"So, this is why you want to marry her," I said, and grinned. When he didn't retort I glanced at him. He was too busy watching his future fiancé.

I did the same, except not Sharika. Sam and the rest of the bar were doing enough of that already. "…_I'll show you lovin' like you never knew,_" Lauren sang – who knew she could sing like that? It doesn't fit in with her crazy, psychotic bitch image. She sang the chorus, and though it wasn't noticeable at first I saw her smile start to slip. She looked down at the audience as though terrified – was she forgetting the words?

_I know what comes next, _I thought to myself, and started to mouth the words, in case she looked this way.

She did.

Her eyes widened at me, and the words left her mouth just in time with the music. "_If it feels alright, maybe you can stay all night…Should I leave you my key?_"

The bar starting singing along soon after, and then it was over.

We walked up to the stage to help the girls down, but before we could, the microphone stand's cord got tangled around Sharika's ankles. She didn't notice though, she was too preoccupied with the thought of getting off the stage as fast as she could.

The girls came tumbling off the stage – Sharika in an ungraceful heap, Sam ran up to her and she landed perfectly into his arms. Lauren executed a perfect somersault and landed right in front of me. She grinned up at me, and I said simply, "I could have done better."

The challenging look I'd seen so much the past few days settled over her features. "Prove it."

I rested my hands on her shoulders, and she blinked slowly, her eyelashes lifting unveil those eyes of hers. I still couldn't decide what color they were. Blue? Green? Golden? I felt my head start to dip towards her – and stopped myself just in time. "Where were you?" I asked to cover my lapse. "I saw Sharika, but where were you?"

Her eyes reflected a confused emotion for a second, and then narrowed. She turned away, shrugging my hands off, her shoulders rigid.

I saw half the bar heading towards us.

∞∞

_Lauren_

My eyes narrowed. I do this thing for the group, and then he turns around and makes a comment like that? Somewhere a tiny person in the back of my head tried to make itself heard. Something about he was probably just joking; but the rest of the tiny people were baying for his blood. How does he do it? How does he make me so _angry,_ so _easily_?

I shrugged his hands off my shoulders and turned around, intending to make some sort of cold comment. But then I saw half the bar coming towards me, smiles and compliments lighting their faces. "At least _some people _appreciate me," I threw over my shoulder at Dean, and stepped forwards with an answering smile. I opened my mouth –

And they walked straight past me.

My face literally froze, my mouth open in the fly-trap position. My eyebrow twitched.

I closed my mouth and eyes, breathing deeply through my nose. Then I plastered another smile on my face and swung around. Around Dean I saw the customers surrounding Shar and pushing Sam out of the way. I looked up at Dean as naturally as possible. "I hope you got the information. I'm _gone._"

And I walked past him, and the truckers and the bikers and Sharika and Sam (who had made his way back to her side). He was wrapping her in his jacket and looking menacingly at the other men.

Outside I breathed the 'fresh' air in and slumped against the pub wall. Embarrassing much?

"You dance, I'll sing," I muttered to myself, and snorted quietly. It's like pasting a sign on myself, asking to be ignored.

"Okay, but I doubt we'll attract as much adoration as your friend did out here."

I looked up into a laughing pair of grey eyes. And my mind went WHOOSH – clear out of my head. "I was –" I blushed. "I was talking to myself."

"I know." The man smiled at me. He had shaggy black hair that fell in disarray around sharp features. He reminded me of a wolf, for some reason. There was an earring in his left ear, and he wore a studded black leather jacket. Biker, obviously.

"Hi," I said, feeling even more of an idiot than I just had. This really – and I _mean_ really – cute guy would find me talking to myself like a psycho.

"Hi. I saw you singing."

"Unlike everyone else," I said, and bit my tongue. No need for bitterness Lauren. "Was I really that horrible?"

"You weren't horrible. If it makes you feel better, you were getting all the attention."

I almost choked. "Are you kidding? With Shar – doing her, uh, thing back there?"

"Yeah, I was lying. Everyone was watching her." He grinned down at me, and I had to laugh. He didn't look sorry at all. "You were getting all _my_ attention though."

"How sweet," I said, and smiled, though I didn't believe it.

"Lauren, I was just –" Dean strode out of the pub entrance, heading towards the car. When he saw the biker guy kind of towering over me (in a knees-as-jelly kind of way for me) he stopped, and kind of grew bigger. "Is he bothering you Lauren? I'll deal with it."

"Um," was my great reply, as the two men sized each other up, and kind of puffed out their chests. Like blowfish trying to intimidate all the other fish.

Men.

Seriously, the two of them had the exact same body size. It was eerie, like they'd been made out of the same clay mould or something. Built, tall and hard – okay, I'm going to stop myself there.

"Get lost truckie," Dean kind of growled. I – okay, nipping that thought before it grows in any direction.

"Truckie?" I repeated, stepping between the two of them, and glancing up at their faces. "More like a biker." I grinned at said person. "A cute biker. What's your name?"

"Kyle. Lauren, right?"

"Right." I glanced in Dean's direction. He was fuming. Which was fun. "Can I have your number?" I asked. I hardly ever do things like this – ask for a stranger's phone number, but something about Kyle just…plus, as an empath, I'd be able to feel if he was dangerous. Maybe. I hoped.

"Sure." We swapped phones, and I entered my mobile into it. "Thanks. Anyways, I've gotta motor. So I'll see you round."

I smiled with regret. "Bye," I said, and waved as Kyle headed back into the bar. I walked towards Dean's car, him trailing. He went around to the other side, muttering to himself.

"Lauren, why is Dean going back inside?" Sharika piped up, looming suddenly out of the darkness.

"He does not look like DEAN/ME!!" Dean and I shouted in unison. "Where is Sam?" I added as an afterthought.

"He's having a friendly word with the locals," Sharika answered, looking the two of us over as though we were insane. Maybe we were.

But about Sam and his friendly word? All I can say is – _ha_.

I looked towards the bar, to see Sam exiting. "Dude, where are the girls?" he asked Kyle, who was heading towards the motorcycles. "Oh, sorry – I thought – never mind."

Dean swore to himself, and I hopped into the back of the car, slumping in the seat and fuming to myself. It's not like I'm attracted to a certain body type, or anything, like Kyle, because that would mean – UGH! That would mean Sharika was right about me being attracted to Dean, which I WASN'T.

Sam and Sharika got in, Shar with a lot of help from Sam as she was still ensconced in his jacket. They gave each other a look, glancing between Dean and I. I could almost see the words passing through them.

"God! You two communicate like an old married couple," I commented angrily, when Sam slid with ease into the passenger seat. "OLD MARRIED COUPLE!!"

"Yeah, well, we're half way there," Sam muttered and everyone in the car just looked at him like he was insane. Except Sharika, she was probably lost in her own little mini world by now.

∞∞

_Dean_

As the car halted to a stop I heard everyone unbuckle their seatbelts and open the car door. I did the same. Sharika was the first to get out; she headed towards the motel.

"Hey wait," Sam requested as Lauren and I hopped out of the car. We stopped walking and turned around to face him.

"What?" Lauren asked him.

"Can you leave Shar and me alone tonight?" he looked at us both seriously. I know that look – he's planning something.

"Are you kidding?! I WANT to get OUT of these STUPID clothes and GO TO SLEEP!" Lauren exclaimed dramatically.

I replied with as "Sure Sammy boy, go do your thing" smiling as crudely as I could, having already guessed what Sam's idea was. Lauren started to open her mouth again but I placed my hand over it. Sam muttered a 'thanks' and ran up to get to Sharika.

"OUCH!" I cried out when I felt sharp teeth sink into my palm. I jerked my hand away from Lauren and cradled it in the other. "What was that for?"

"You are STOPPING free speech! Die communist! DIE!" She started to wave both her hands at me, as if trying to shoo me away.

I raised my eyebrows at her, enjoying the result of her waving her hands so enthusiastically.

She didn't seem to notice the lowering of my eyes from her face to the 'Got Milk?' slogan.

"Are you done yet?" I asked her in annoyance, I mean a guy could only take so much 'die communist die'. Even if it was accompanied by such interesting actions.

I quickly took a glimpse of Sam and Sharika; they were standing in front of the room talking. Sharika noticed my gaze, which I swiftly reverted back to the blonde in front of me.

"Now I am," she admitted. She dropped her hands back to her sides. "Why did he ask us to leave them alone?"

I gave her a 'look', putting in as much suggestiveness as I could.

"Oh," she replied. "Is it just me or did our roles reverse? Since when did they become the over-sexed couple? Not that we are a couple, for which I am glad." She glanced over at them, they were still talking. Sharika walked inside, Sam said something to her and then took off to his and my room.

Lauren sent me a curious gaze.

"Probably stocking up on protection," I replied, with a sense of amusement.

He ran out of the room and back into Sharika's room.

"Great, we get the vomit infested room!" Lauren informed me, obviously annoyed.

"Come on, let's move," I ordered her. I began walking towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Aren't you going to carry me again?" I heard a voice ask sarcastically, as I headed up the stairs. I ignored it.

∞∞

_Sharika_

Oh god, I can't believe I did that! I never thought that I'd have to dress or act like that again after I left England! That was so humiliating! I hate dancing with a passion. But at least it's over now. I won't have to do it again, but the last time I said that was five years ago and look what I'm wearing now, hooker wear for teens! Well, hopefully I won't have to do it again. At least I didn't make anyone puke, which was surprising.

As the car came to a stop at the motel car park, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. I got out, with a certain amount of difficulty, shutting the door behind me. I headed towards my and Lauren's room.

And those freaking bikies, they swarmed around me after the…performance and started jeering and cat calling at me! I just stood there, frozen. I obviously wasn't used to such situations. Some of them wanted to 'hire' me for personal parties! What the hell?! Then Sam, thank god, after shoving his way back to the middle, put the huge jacket on me again, much to the dismay of the drunken crowd. Well one positive point, I'm attractive to drunken people. After that I rushed out while Sam, easily towering over the bikers, followed me protectively until we were outside of the bar.

When I reached the door I unzipped my purse and fished around for my keys. I took them out and unlocked the door. _'This is so much like the time when Fiona and I went to a rave in Uni,"_ I thought to myself. A bitter-sweet smile swept across my face as I turned to remind Lauren of that particular day.

No one was behind me. _Odd_, I thought. _Everyone was right behind me after I got out of the Impala_. I turned my neck around to search for them, then noticed Sam running up the stairs towards me.

"Hi," Sam greeted me breathlessly once he reached me.

"Hi," I greeted back, confused. "What are Dean and Lauren doing?"

They were standing by the car, in deep conversation about something. Dean quickly glanced at Sam and I then went straight back into whatever they were discussing.

"They're going to spend the night together, trying to decipher the clue he gave us," Sam said, referring to the pub owner and his cryptic clue.

"Then shouldn't we-"

"No," Sam interrupted me. "They want to do it themselves. Don't ask me why."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, he was acting peculiarly. Why does he want Dean and Lauren to be together so much? Is he trying to hook them up? Doesn't he know that it'll take more then just one night together for them to get over themselves and confess their feelings? Or maybe Lauren or Dean told him that they wanted to be by themselves so he and I could spend more time together? No, they aren't that thoughtful. Whatever it was, I was involved, from the curious looks Dean and Lauren sent my way. Oh well, whatever he or they were doing it didn't matter much to me now; I'd still get to spend time with Sam tonight.

I opened the door and walked into the room, taking off the jacket and carefully placing it on the coat hanger that stood beside the door. I started to make my way to the bedroom but I stopped halfway when I realized that there weren't foot steps following me or that the door didn't creak to a close. I turned around to see Sam standing exactly where he was.

"You move like a dancer, you know," Sam told me after a few seconds of silence.

"I was a dancer at one point in my life, you know that," I said. "I'm going to go run a bath."

"Can I join?" he asked slyly, grinning like he had earlier today.

With an equally perverted grin I replied. "Sure." I raised my hands up to the bottom of the corset I was wearing and very slowly, and coyly, undid one of the buttons. "But for that you need to come in." I added. I tossed my hair back, giving it a windswept look and cocked my head to the side, circling my belly button with my finger.

"I will, but I need to go get something quickly from my room first," he said. He turned and walked away before I could say anything.

Curiously I walked back to the doorway and looked after him. What could he possibly need now? He probably went to get a new change of clothes for tomorrow I decided, that was the most logical answer after all, especially considering the attire he had to wear last night. I smiled, thinking of what was to come, and re-entered the room, closing the door behind me, but remembering not to lock it.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"So...what do you want to do?" I asked Dean, bored. We were facing each other on the couch. He opened his mouth, and I could practically see what he was going to say. "Don't even think about it."

Pervert.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" he asked, now equally bored.

_Got to keep myself preoccupied_, I lectured myself. _No more tissue incidents._

"Um, I don't know." I tried to think of something. ANYTHING. But my mind was stagnant. "Do you have any board games?"

∞∞

_Sharika_

As I dumped half a bottle of bubble-bath into the, now bubble infested, tub I heard the door slam shut, and the clicks of the locks turning.

_He's here_, I thought to myself.

I quickly lit a few more candles and turned off the lights.

_Picture perfect_, I grinned. The atmosphere was exactly how I'd envisioned it to be.

"I'm back," Sam said from the living room. There were two thuds, presumably Sam taking his shoes of and dropping them on the floor. Quite a few moments later he entered the bathroom, only wearing his black boxer shorts.

I could feel my face heating up as I was hit by an overwhelming sense of bashfulness. I was only wearing my bath robe, which left nothing at all to the imagination, not that he would need to imagine anyway.

I quickly turned away, taking off the robe and slipped into the bathtub. Sam did the same. We sat across each other, leaning against opposite sides of the tub, which was abnormally long. Seriously, it was about six foot five in length, probably the motels way of overcompensating for the unclean rooms and the roaches. I could only feel Sam's feet on either side of me. The bubbles covered everything underwater. He was leaning relaxingly against the wall of the tub where as I was pressing my back towards the curve of the tub, trying to create as much space between Sam and me as I could.

We sat there in silence for a whole minute, not knowing what to say. What was I supposed to say? 'You look nice when you're covered in bubbles'? Even though we had quite a bit of space between us and not to mention the cold air surrounding us, I felt warm. To be honest, I think my body temperature is so high now that I'm actually heating up the water. I think I might have been blushing. But I wasn't self conscious, this was strange for me. I'm always self conscious, unless I was at home alone where no one could see me. Then I was perfectly fine. Although I was crouched into one side I didn't feel awkward, just shy. Why should I feel shy? He has already seen me naked, what's the big deal now?

I raised my gaze from the shadows the candles cast over the bubbles to Sam's face. He was staring at me, with an intense gaze and a thoughtful look.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked. I hugged my legs closer to me, my kneecaps now visible due to my position.

"Other then the beautiful, naked and wet woman across from me," he paused as my face grew warmer. "The future."

He reached over and tenderly held my upper arm. Slowly he turned me a hundred and eighty degree's and began to pull me towards him. He stopped when my head was resting on his shoulders and my back leaning against his muscular chest.

I sighed happily, feeling a hundred percent comfortable, even though my skin was tingling all over.

"Aren't you?" he asked, his fingers drifting up and down my stomach, this action caused the tingling to focus more on my stomach, where his fingers came into contact with my skin.

I nodded. "We didn't look much older then we are now in the vision."

"Yeah," he agreed with me. "I…umm-"

"What is it?" I wanted to know. I twisted my whole body around until I faced him. I was balancing my weight on my knees and placed my hands on his shoulders, to hold myself steady.

"I love you," he told me.

"I love you too," I answered, now more curious then ever to what was going on in his mind.

"I know you so well now. When I had those visions I was more confused then I was in my entire life. And as I started to get to know you, I realized why I would propose so early. You're amazing, you have a good sense of humor and you're intelligent. You're down to earth, straight forward, pragmatic…" he trailed of.

"Yes," I said, acknowledging that I had been listening. My urge to know what he was getting up to grew stronger by the second. I think he's trying to propose to me, was he? I had my doubts, but my brain was inevitably reaching that conclusion.

"And then, what we did this afternoon –" he paused, and fragmented memories crowded my mind. "– was wonderful, it washed away all the remaining doubts I had," he told me.

I smiled. "It _was _wonderful," I replied. "It's funny though. I never make impulsive decisions, because they never seen to work out in the long run; ironically the most impulsive decision that I've ever made turned out to be the best choice I could have made in my life."

He took a deep breath. I could feel heat radiating off his body and his heart beat quicken against my hand.

"What I'm trying to say is," he got out of the tub and bent down on one knee, he reached under the tub and pulled out a small velvet box. My breath caught and I froze.

He opened it and held it towards me, in the box was a ring. A gold band encrusted with one diamond and two sapphires placed on either sides of it.

"Sharika, will you marry me?" he asked, his voice low and husky. I could almost taste the emotion he was holding back.

"Oh my god," the words escaped my mouth. "Yes!" I cried out in happiness.

He took my hand and put the ring on. I leaped out of the tub and into his arms, hugging him with all my might. I then put my hands on the sides of his face and brought him down for a passionate kiss.

"This ring was my mothers," he informed me after we broke our kiss, both of us breathless. "My father gave this to me, well, Dean and me. He told us that which ever one of us got married first will give this ring to his wife."

I smiled, at a loss of what to say.

"Come," I said at long last. I lead him back into the warm waters in the tub.

Once we were both inside I pressed myself up against him, my hands on his chest, and placed my lips alongside his left ear. "Now Mr. Winchester," I whispered. "Let me show you how delighted you have made me."

∞∞

_Lauren_

"Triple word score!" I cheered, pointing down at my word 'phallus'.

"Is that even a word?" Dean asked me.

"It's a very popular word. And I am not surprised that you don't know what it is, considering you've probably never seen one before," I replied airily, sticking my nose up, eyeing him out of the corners.

"I probably have; weren't you carrying one around in your pocket yesterday?"

I gave him a condescending look. "No, it's more of a male thing to do that."

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "Classic, eighteen points!"

If you hadn't guessed yet, we were playing scrabble. And I was winning, fun fun.

I'm much more articulate and book smart, which is a sure winner in Scrabble. The exact reason why I'd chosen these games above all the rest the motel had offered us.

I looked down at my letters.

Well that sucks. The only word I can make is 'gloop'. And that's not even a dictionary word. It's a Laurenish one. But then….if he didn't even know what a phallus was, I may be able to push this one past him… "Gloop," I said calmly, putting my letters down. He looked at me from across the table with a completely straight face, which I returned.

"Gloop?" he asked slowly.

"Gloop."

He started to laugh. "Is that the best you can do? It's not even a word!"

"How would you know? You don't even recognize a scientific term for your male organ!"

"So that's what it is? What are you going to try and pawn gloop off as, slang for the female –?"

I threw a letter piece at him and stood up. "Gloop is a word! It's just not very well known."

"I'll bet." He sat there, quietly laughing to himself, as I started packing up the pieces. If he could not even be serious about legitimate (and I use that term very loosely, because obviously what I find to be acceptable, and what others find to be, is very different) words, I refuse to play. "You don't want to play scrabble anymore?" he asked, finally noticing me watching him from across the table. (I'd packed the pieces up entirely about two minutes ago.)

"No," I said, in a calm, mature manner.

"What do you want to do?"

I was so bored that my mind wondered back to tonight. I'd never done anything like that before – karaoke in a biker bar. Funny. And then there was that guy, Kyle. He was cute. I doubt I'd ever see him again though – and after the way we'd hit it off, that would be a shame.

Thinking about cute bikers, who were _not here_, made me even more bored. I suppose I'd have to create my own fun.

I gave Dean the perverted look he'd given me earlier that night when I'd asked the same thing. "I'm thinking of something far more…adventurous…this time around," I said, and slowly got up, moving closer to him, in a predatory approach. (I have to find _some_ way to entertain myself when Sharika is not around to tease.) I bent down next to his ear, and put my mouth right next to it. "Let's," I started, my voice all throaty. "Let's play…" My lips brushed his earlobe. "Trouble."

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AN: Hehehe. I didn't realise at first that any one would like this story – the hits were so tiny and like, no one was reviewing and Peace7 was getting obsessive and checking it everyday… we still don't know if we should keep posting because aside from Neha who reviews like every chapter (sends love) and you new readers Transgenic girl and princess03773, no one seems to be getting anything out of it, which is sad because we love this 'verse and could live in it forever – and ever, and ever, and ever. Anyways, give us a shout out if you do want us to continue just to make us feel special, boost our spirits – you know, that kind of thing. Happy writers write faster. :P Outties.


	7. You Won't Understand

**Disclaimer – See Chapter One. **

Lozz: He made me breakfast. In _bed._

Shar: Lauren, get over it. The important thing is – how much sex Sam and I are having. Every time I turn around, we're in a position that leads to –

Lozz: Ugh! Shut it! I do _not_ need to hear about your sex-capades. It's scary enough having you write about it. And the real, real, real issue here is – your moving out. And getting engaged. And replacing me. Poor, poor Lauren.

Shar: You don't mind do you?

Lozz: rolls on the floor laughing Good god, no. I'm glad to be getting rid of you.

Shar: is shocked

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**You Won't Understand**

_She brings me love; I know that it's all that I need_

_Love, I know it's all that I need_

_Sometimes I get a feeling, deep in my bones_

_Sometimes I get a feeling, won't leave me alone_

_Sometimes I get a feeling, deep inside_

_It's such a feeling, my love I can't hide_

She Brings Me Love – Bad Company

_Dean_

We fell asleep at the table in the middle of the night. Whose idea was that again? My neck had an ache in it that rivaled the headaches Lauren had given me.

I looked at my watch. It was three o'clock in the morning.

I got up, and scooped Lauren into my arms. I just stood there for a moment, watching her there. She turned her face into my chest and curled into me. I would be fooling myself if I said it didn't feel good. Because it did. I love responsive women – it's not Lauren in herself, I'm sure.

I shook my head, and walked quietly towards the bedroom. When inside, I placed one knee on the bed, lowering her onto it. She moved restlessly on the bed for a second, which destabilized me and I fell forwards onto my hands. I kept my arms straight, holding myself above her. She smiled in her sleep, and her legs tangled themselves in mine. I lowered myself next to her. It was very squashed up on the bed, seeing as how it was a single, so I shifted a little, and held her in my arms.

"Kiss me…" she whispered. I don't know if it was her, or if she was dreaming. Maybe it was her empathy reaching out in her sleep and discovering how I felt. All I knew was, I couldn't keep a lady waiting.

I kissed her softly on the mouth, and then lay back against the pillows.

That's how I fell asleep again.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I was awoken by the gentle rustling of the leaves outside. I turned in bed without opening my eyes.

"Sam?" I called out in my groggy morning voice, reaching out to the space next to me. There was no response, and no body under my hand.

I forced my eyes open, and blinked a few times while they adjusted to the light surrounding the room. Once my vision was clear I glanced at his side of the bed, only to find a single note placed on his pillow.

'Making pancakes' I read off it. I glanced up at the clock; it told me that it was nine thirty.

I got up and put on my clothes (blue shorts and a blue singlet), which were folded neatly in the corner. I brushed my hair and tied it up into a messy ponytail before I left the bedroom.

"Hi," Sam's deep voice greeted me from in front the counters. He was wearing a t-shirt with the Nike slogan on it and dark blue jeans. His face was smudged liberally on the cheeks in what I presumed chocolate.

"Hi," I greeted back, smiling. I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "Where are the pancakes?"

He grinned sheepishly and then glanced at the sink.

Curiously, I followed his gaze, only to find a plate stocked with burnt pancakes. There were about ten or eleven piled sloppily on top of one another.

"Choc chip pancakes?" I asked.

He nodded.

"It's the thought that counts," I told him.

With one finger I scooped a little chocolate off his face and tasted it.

"It's good," I told him. A giggle escaped my lips. For the second time I scooped chocolate off the side of his face, as soon as I did he grabbed my hand and licked the chocolate off my finger.

I laughed as his tongue was still roaming on my finger long after the chocolate had been gone. He began kissing up my arm, neck and eventually his lips made their way to mine. I put my hands in his hair, stroking him softly. One of his hands was on my hip and the other wandering on my back.

I laughed after we broke off the kiss. This kiss only resulted in the chocolate spreading more on his face. He peered down at me, grinning, and kissed me again softly on my shoulder.

"You got chocolate all over me!" I exclaimed, in mock anger. There was a trail of chocolate from my arm all the way to my face.

He smiled at me, his eyes looking over the chocolate trail.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him, hopping off the chair and jumping into his lap. I rested my head in the crook of his neck.

"A little," he answered, his fingers skimming over the edges of my singlet. He pushed off the fabric and started to caress my waist.

"Me too," I whispered. I kissed his cheek, licking off some of the chocolate. "We should visit them, you know, the blonde one and the other guy before we get distracted." I twirled a strand of his hair with my fingers.

"Too late," Sam said, dipping his head lowered to kiss me. Without breaking the kiss he stood up, remembering to hold me, and began to stride back towards the bedroom.

∞∞

_Dean_

I woke up slowly. There was still a soft, warm body held against mine.

I blinked, and looked down.

And it was still Lauren's body. I don't know what possessed me last night, except that she just looked so sweet asleep on the table. And even sweeter on the bed.

I detangled myself from her slowly, and got up. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since five o'clock yesterday. Food. I need food.

I looked down at Lauren again. What would she eat for breakfast? _Did_ she eat breakfast? She didn't yesterday. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday. Neither did I, except for a burger in the afternoon while everyone was otherwise occupied. Wait, unless you count eating a chip out of my hair as breakfast.

Heading into the kitchen I laughed softly to myself. She'd looked so – _quirky_, eating that smoking chip, and then she'd offered me one, and I'd wanted to – well. What can I say? Sam and Sharika's constant lovey-dovey behavior has made me even more oversexed than usual, and I guess I was latching onto the only other female I was allowed around.

"What do we have here?" I asked the fridge as I opened it. Some shriveled fruit, milk, a half eaten slice of Hawaiian pizza, a scraping of butter, an open packet of bacon, two tubs of Sammy's vanilla yoghurt, one head of browning lettuce, and a couple of bottles of beer. The freezer wasn't much better, having one ice-cream, and a TV dinner inside. Grabbing the half eaten pizza slice, I moved over to the cupboard. It had half a loaf of bread, a container of peanut butter and one bottle of dry-mix instant pancakes. It was lucky the place even had this much food; we'd been holed up here for a week before Sam had forced himself to go grocery shopping.

It would have to do.

Finishing the pizza off, I pulled the pancake mix from the cupboard, and started to assemble what I would need. A pan, from under the sink, the butter from the fridge, fruit, the bacon, the bread and the toaster.

And I started to cook.

Stick the bacon under the griller – turn the griller on. Put butter to melt in the pan, add water to the pancake mix, shake it up as I put toast in the toaster – but don't push it down yet, and stir the melting butter. Pour four circles of batter into the pan, start to slice fruit, get a couple of plates out, check on the bacon. Flip the pancakes, push first batch of toast down, take a bite of the fruit to check it's still edible – it is, place it on the plate. Take the first four pancakes out, put them in a plate in the oven to keep warm, flip the bacon, butter the toast that's just popped, and stick it in with the pancakes. Put more toast in the toaster, more batter in the pan, and continue slicing fruit.

Still half-asleep, I slipped into the cooking role easily, soon losing myself in the rhythm of keeping everything going.

And then it was done.

Four pancakes for Lauren, two slices of toast with bacon, and fruit on the side. Six pancakes for me, with two slices of toast with bacon, and fruit on the side. There was still more than half of the pancake batter left, if we were still hungry. I probably would be.

I turned everything in the kitchen off, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink, and headed into the bedroom, my hands balancing the plates.

Hopefully she would appreciate the breakfast, and not get snarky at me for waking her up. If she didn't want it, I'd have it. I placed the plates on the bedside table, then I pushed the second bed into the occupied one, so there would be more room. I came around to her side, and shook her gently.

"Uhnnarrr," she groaned incoherently, turning over. "Difnaddle." (At least, that's what it sounded like.)

"Lauren, I made breakfast," I said loudly, and shook her again. "Wake up."

She blinked up at me, over her shoulder. "Dreaming?" she asked, then yawned and wiped a hand across her face.

"Nope, now get up or I'll eat it all." And I would. The smell coming off those plates was making me –

She sat up, yawning and stretching, the 'Got Milk?' slogan pulling taut across her chest. Now I was fully awake. She didn't even notice, looking over at the bedside table. "OH MY GOD!!" she screamed.

"What?" I asked, worried that she was going to say something like; _you've got a dead animal on your plate_!! It _has_ happened before, when I'd cooked breakfast in bed for this red-haired vegetarian chick – let's just say the reaction I got was not as I'd envisioned as I was cooking the dead animal in the kitchen.

"YOU ACTUALLY MADE BREAKFAST?!?" She stared at me, as though I had grown a couple of extra eyes out of the top of my head.

"Uh, yeah…?"

"No guy has ever done it for me before," she looked up at me, her eyes filling up. What kind of jerks had she slept with, never to have made breakfast in bed for her before? She was the kind who deserved it.

"Oh." Now what was I supposed to do? I hadn't had much experience with crying females. Ones screaming for their life, yes. Ones slapping me across the face, yes. Ones in bed with me – definitely. Crying ones, NO. "Sorry."

"Are you kidding me? Thank you so much! Now I have to do something nice for you…" she glanced around. "Um…yeah, sorry for being so weepy. I'm very emotional in the mornings."

"Why?"

"I don't know." She looked back up at me. "Now what can I do for you?" She thought for a second, and then the cheeky grin I'd seen her give Sharika spread across her face. "I could flash you."

I blinked. Then my imagination took hold, and I swallowed, seeing her take that shirt off and – "What kind of guy would I be for asking payment after making you breakfast in bed?" I asked, acting offended, but at the same time giving her a suggestive look.

"The normal kind." She looked down at the blankets. "You're probably right though." What? NO WAIT! "We shouldn't get involved. I don't think I'm the '_forever_' type, and neither are you. And seeing how Sharika and Sam will be getting married, we'd have to see a lot of each other, and if we – you know – it would be awkward."

"Yeah," I said, confused as to how we'd got onto this topic. How long had she been thinking about it? Longer than since she'd suggested flashing me, I'm sure. "But –"

"This looks delicious," she interrupted, and grabbed the plate with six pancakes on it.

"That's – never mind. But you'll be the one making me more pancakes."

"I will." She took a bite, then groaned. "But I doubt I could cook it as good as you. I always burn stuff that I cook in pans. Or should I say, try to cook?" she took another bite and sighed.

I walked around the beds and sat on the second one, grabbing my plate. I took a bite too, one about three times larger than hers. "Did good, didn't I?"

"Won'erful," she muttered, through a mouthful of toast and bacon. She closed her eyes, and her head lolled back against the pillows. "Heavem."

I watched her and smiled. Then I looked down at my plate, thinking over what she'd said. She was probably right – I wasn't the 'forever' type as she'd put it. I didn't stay with women more than a night, maybe a night and a morning if I didn't have a demon hunt to get to. The longest relationship I'd had was with Cassie, and look how that had turned out. She was getting married soon, in July I think she'd said. What she'd said was right, she couldn't wait for hell to freeze over – for me to come back and want to stay in one place with her. It wasn't me.

Whatever me was.

But that didn't mean Lauren and I – we could still –

I looked over at her, taking a dainty bite of the shriveled brown pear, as though it was the best piece of fruit she'd ever tasted, and she was the queen at a banquet, rather than an empath having a hastily made breakfast in bed. She may not know it yet, but she was definitely the forever type. She needed a guy who would stick around, and could understand her and her gift; not me.

A funny feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I told myself this.

Lauren was finished eating. She faced me, placing her plate, knife and fork on top of the blankets. "This was the best breakfast I've ever, ever had," she said, completely serious.

"It was my company, I'm known for my 'best ever ever'-ness," I started to say, but she interrupted me, by planting a warm, soft kiss on my cheek. "Thank you," she said, getting up, and picking up her plate and cutlery, suddenly practical. "I'm going to go cook you some more pancakes, and though they won't be as good as yours, how many would you like?"

"Um, six?" I answered, my attention still on the exact spot where she'd kissed me. It was tingling.

"Right," she nodded, and left the room.

She'd smelled like roses, and baby powder.

I shook my head, and ate the rest of my breakfast. The whole idea of me and Lauren was ridiculous in the first place – we didn't like each other that way, we were barely friends. It was just Sharika's and Sam's effect on us, that's all.

And if I wanted to start a relationship like that with her, I would. And she'd want to too.

Not that I did. I mean, she was hot, and I was definitely attracted to her – in an objective sot of way – but we didn't suit.

I sat on the bed for a little while after I'd finished eating, waiting for her to come back. Then I decided to see what she was up to.

Sitting here waiting to be waited on wasn't my style.

Besides, it was _Lauren_. She could have hurt herself in any number of ways by now.

∞∞

_Lauren_

_He made me breakfast. In bed._

The litany repeated itself inside my head over and over, with each step I took away from him, into the kitchen._ He made me breakfast. In bed._

I added more pancake batter to the heated pan. Six? Only four would fit. But that didn't matter, I could do more. I'll put some toast in too –_ He made me breakfast. In bed._

The only time I'd ever received breakfast in bed was last year on my twenty-second birthday. Sharika and Joyee and Fiona had burst into my room, singing and laughing, overfull plates in their hands. They'd jumped onto the bed with me, and we'd eaten there, talking and giggling and just being us. But that was before the demon stuff.

I felt more tears fill my eyes, and placed my hands on the bench to steady me. Why _was_ I such a sook in the morning? I mean, there was nothing to even cry about. Yes, he was a gorgeous, thoughtful, challenging guy – but he was out of reach. Even if I had wanted to start a relationship with him – which I_ didn't_ – I couldn't, because he wouldn't want to stay with me, and then I'd be bitter whenever we saw each other again, when we came in contact with each other through Shar and Sam. And what about Joyee and Fiona? How could I think of anything, anything, but getting them back?

_I shouldn't have left them_, the guilty voice that had occupied my brain since that day spoke up again. _I could have _done_ something_. _I left them defenseless_._ And for what? No reason at all, but to satisfy myself. _

So I had to keep my mind on the goal – I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by anything. Or anyone. Why am I even thinking about this anyway? It's not like I was planning on sleeping with him or anything. I mean, I'm a virgin, which hardly anyone knew or suspected. Everyone assumed I'd lost it years ago – I was that time of person, very sensual. At least, that's what most shocked people said when they found out.

Back to the original question – maybe I was getting my periods. That must be it, plus my empath powers going all whack. I was just getting Sam and Sharika's emotions and relating them to Dean. It was nothing else. It couldn't be.

Mind _off_ this. Focus on the demon. The _demon_.

But Dean kept re-entering my head.

I recalled my dream from last night. He'd carried me into bed, and I'd told him to kiss me, and he had. But that was just a dream. The only time he'd kissed me was the tissue incident, and that was because it had looked like I was throwing myself at him. What red-blooded male wouldn't react?

"Lauren?"

I spun around, arms coming up to shield myself. Reflex action – this whole demon hunt thing had me more on edge than I was willing to admit to anyone, especially myself. I couldn't admit weakness.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh," I said, staring up at Dean, and lowering my arms. I hoped he couldn't read my face. "I'm fine."

"You're crying again."

"I am?" A hand went up to my face; before it got there, Dean's pushed it aside and stroked a tear away from my cheek.

"Yeah." My breath left me. Why…? "Lauren, about what you said earlier?" I closed my eyes, his hand still stroking my cheek rhythmically. Up…down…up…down. I felt him step closer. "I'm ignoring it." And I wanted to kiss him. So much I could taste it. But I –

I felt myself starting to melt into him. His hands cupped my face –

POP

The toast was finished. I jerked myself away, and scrambled over to the toaster. Despite my great desire to be kissing him, I was glad for the interruption. It meant I could avoid such things, and eventually I could build up a resistance to him and keep my mind where it needed to be – a.k.a., not in his pants. "Get back into bed," I whispered hoarsely over my shoulder, and started buttering the toast.

"Laur-"

"Please."

I heard him leave, and paused for a second, collecting myself. I couldn't allow myself to be distracted._ From now on_, I told myself, _keep it strictly friendly and business like_.

I headed back into the bedroom with the toast, smiling as though nothing was going on. "Here you go!" I said cheerily, putting the toast on his plate, and bouncing onto the beds next to him. I feel like I'm forgetting something though.

"Um, Lauren?"

"Yes?" I asked, hoping it wasn't anything to do with the whole – you know.

"What's burning?"

SHIT!

I jumped back off the bed and out of the room, Dean following. The kitchen was starting to fill up with smoke from the pancakes, which were flaming. "Open the window –" I coughed to Dean, grabbing the pan. He did so, and started to try and wave the smoke out the window. I turned the tap on, and held the pan beneath the spurting water.

A minute later we looked down at the gently steaming, black, soggy remains of what were _supposed_ to be normal flavored pancakes. They looked like hamsters that had been left in a burning house. Dean stared at me, and I bit my lip, looking up at him. "You really can't cook, can you?"

"Only when it's stuff in a _pan_," I reiterated, for the fifth time, and grabbed the peanut butter. He'd probably want it for his toast.

"Right," he said, shaking his head, and heading once more for the bedroom. I trailed him, my eyes on my feet. We sat back on the beds, and I put the peanut butter on the floor, turning to watch Dean eat the toast.

At least it wasn't as burnt as the pancakes.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"It's a party for a modeling company," I told Sam. As soon as we were done…getting distracted and got dressed into fresh new clothes, I had turned on the laptop I owned and looked up the address on the internet. "The guy who owns it is name Clause Shifter." I was lying down on my stomach, in bed, with my feet in the air.

Clause Shifter? Why does that name sound so familiar? I know I've heard it before somewhere.

"So we're going to hang out at a party full of models? Dean's gonna love that!" Sam joked next to me; he was lying on his back, his head towards the laptop. He looked over my shoulder and glanced at the screen.

"OH!" I gasped as soon as the realization hit me. "I worked for him once!"

"Who? Clause?" he asked, looking at me curiously.

I shifted my gaze from the laptop screen to his face. "When I went to England, I modeled for awhile. I needed a job," I explained. "And I met him there; he was working there as a director."

"When does it start?" he wanted to know.

"At, umm," I checked the screen. "Seven thirty. Do you have a have a suit to wear?"

He nodded, his face grew the slightest bit red. "What about you, do you have a dress?"

"No. The thing is, with Clause, there's a certain type of dress code for women." I informed him, frowning at the thought. "I, we need to go shopping." I said, referring to Lauren and myself.

I buried my head in his shoulder and groaned. I did not want to do this! Clause was an okay guy himself, a bit presumptuous at times but okay non-the-less, it's just that the models he hires...they're not exactly known for their kindness. They were self obsessed and extremely critical. There were only two types he hires, the big busted, bright eyed, low intelligence, annoyingly chipper, perky models that seemed to flounce and bounce around everywhere, and then there was the mega-bitches, huge ego, condescending and anorexic/bulimic, sometimes even both.

I was surprised when I had first met those…people. I didn't expect everyone to be nice but still, I never thought that this level of bitchiness existed. But then again, I always surround myself with nice people.

I disliked most of them almost instantly and learnt to stay out of their way. They would walk all over you if you gave them the slightest chance to do so. I was just glad that a few of my experienced friends were there; they helped me adapt and conform to that bizarre society, so I became a mega-bitch there myself, well not totally, I just became more domineering and less prone to forgiveness to the other models. Strangely, I never acted that way to anyone outside the Dome (what we called the building where we worked).

I took a deep breath in and breathed out; at a party, which I assume will be similar to todays, I made three chippers and two mega-bitches cry. I felt horrible afterward and desperately wanted to apologize but my friends forbade me from doing so, 'It'll be a sign of weakness!' they exclaimed. And they were right.

"Reluctant to go?" Sam asked, as he stroked my hair.

I nodded. I rolled over a little until my body was on top of his. I picked up my head and looked directly into his eyes. "It's just that, when I'm with these people, the models I mean, I turn…nasty."

"Nasty?" Sam laughed, causing the corner of his eyes to crinkle.

I sighed. "Yes, I'm just a different person around them, you have to be or they won't treat you as an equal."

"Models?"

I dropped my head back down onto his chest, closed my eyes and groaned inwardly. "You won't understand!" I talked into his chest.

"What?" his hand stopped stroking my hair and lowered down to my back, they then resumed their previous actions.

"You won't understand," I repeated after I raised my head again. "You just have to have been there." I glimpsed at the clock on the laptop screen. "We should tell Lauren and Dean."

Using my palms, I lifted myself off him and stood on the floor. He didn't move a muscle.

"Do we have to?" he rolled over to his side, looking up at me. I could practically hear the reluctance to leave the bed in his voice.

I bent down until I was at eye level with him. "If we don't go now we'll end up getting distracted again."

"I don't mind," He grasped my upper arm and pulled me back, until I was on top of him again. "Do you?"

∞∞

_Sam_

We rolled over, Shar on top of me, laughing. I reached up and kissed her mouth, my hands sliding into her hair. When we broke apart she smiled down at me and said, "We should probably go see the blonde one and your brother. We've gotten distracted quite enough now, and we don't want _them _coming to visit _us_, do we?"

How can she think about Lauren and Dean _now_?

I sighed, and sat up, reaching for my shirt, which had managed to land just next to the bed. The rest of our clothes were scattered all over the room. Sharika's shirt was hanging from the lamp, my jeans hung from the door handle. I hadn't noticed until now.

I located my boxers on the window ledge, and we both got dressed, laughing as we discovered where our clothes had gotten to in our rush. I tried not to touch her too much, I knew it would just lead to more 'getting distracted' – as she'd put it. When we were fully dressed, we left the room, remembering to grab the soggy cold pancakes, and headed over to number 29. Just outside of it we heard –

"– NOT BURNT, OKAY?! SORRY I CAN'T COOK _TOAST _AS WELL AS YOU CAN!!"

Sharika and I looked at each other. "Lauren," we stated in unison, and I opened the door for her. We entered, leaving the pancakes on the coffee table, and made our way into the bedroom, where the source of all the yelling derived from. Lauren was yelling at Dean, and he was calmly inspecting the piece of toast he obviously found lacking.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it!!" Lauren said, and tried to snatch the toast away from him. He dodged her hand and took a bite of the toast, then grimaced.

"No, I'll eat it. I'm still starving since I didn't get to eat any more than four pancakes."

"I ALREADY –" Suddenly Lauren noticed us in the doorway. She seemed to swallow her words, blushed, then sat back against the pillows. "Hi, guys," she said, quite serenely for a person who'd just been shouting about toast.

Dean looked up, and grinned at us. "Hey."

Sharika looked around and sniffed the air. "Is something burning?" she asked, looking around worriedly. I sniffed too, and noticed it.

"Is there?"

"NO!!" Lauren denied, and Dean started laughing. "It was just – the pan – there was – ARRGH!" She grabbed the toast out of Dean's hands and held it out of his reach. "Now there will be no more complaining! Go make your own toast!"

"Guys, we have to –" I started to tell them about the fact that Sharika and I were engaged, but Dean interrupted, trying to snatch the toast back.

"Give it back! I already took a bite!"

"So what?!" Lauren asked, and she gave Dean a challenging look. Then she held the toast in front of her face, and licked it slowly, all the way up one side.

"I can't believe you just did that," Dean said, staring at her. Then he shrugged, and tried to get his toast back again.

"Uh, guys –"

"Back, beast, back!!" Lauren shrieked, as Dean's movements threatened to throw her off the bed. "It's mine now!"

"I made you a whole –"

"That was then, this is –"

"GUYS!?!"

"You could at least give me the toast, seeing as how you killed the pancakes!!"

"If you were a gentleman you'd stop bringing that up! And it was only because they were in a PAN!!"

"I never said I was a –"

"HELLO?!?" I shouted, but they were too absorbed in their fight to notice. I looked down at Sharika helplessly, and shrugged. "They're not listening."

"IT'S _TOAST_!! GET OVER IT!!"

"It's _my_ toast, give it back!!"

"GET OVER IT!!"

"Give it back!!"

"We're engaged," Shar said simply, with a completely serious face, and at her usual volume.

"I don't think they heard," I whispered to her, as Lauren and Dean continued to struggle over the toast. He had a grip now, and they were both on their knees on the bed trying to wrench it away from each other.

"Just wait," she said peacefully, and watched Lauren and Dean like they were a movie.

"GIVE IT BACK!" Lauren was the one shouting that now.

"I thought you said to get over it!?"

"GIVE – IT – WHAT?!?!" Lauren suddenly screeched, letting go of the toast and facing us. This action caused Dean to fall off the bed, due to the force of his previous tugging, and his surprise. I laughed at him as he sat up, crumbs clinging to his hair and the mangled bit of toast (now completely inedible) clutched in his hand. "ENGAGED?!?!" Lauren launched herself off the bed towards Sharika, who tried to get away, but failed. "OH MY GOD!!" Lauren screamed, and started jumping up and down, still hugging Sharika – who after a couple of seconds started laughing, and returned the gesture. "You're engaged!! ENGAGED!!"

Dean and I stared at each other, then back at the girls, slightly scared. We weren't really used to this kind of behavior. And it was a guy's worst nightmare – screaming women.

Lauren let go of Sharika, and her eyes were suspiciously glittery as she turned and looked at the two of us. Her lip quivered, and then she grabbed me and hugged me too. She started to cry into my chest.

"Lauren?" Sharika asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

I patted her awkwardly on the back. "Yes," she said, in between sobs. "I'm j-just so hap-py for-r you-u!!"

After a while she let go of me and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She then reached up, took hold of my face and brought it down to her level. (Quite a bend for me, seeing as how she was exactly Sharika's height.) She then kissed me on both cheeks and whispered in my ear – "Hurt her, and I will hunt you down boy. You will never, ever be safe. I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course." Then she let go, smiled at me with her sweet and innocent smile, and yelled – "CONGRATULATIONS!!!"

Dean then got his turn to congratulate us, as Lauren hopped back onto the bed and started eating the broken piece of toast he'd left there.

He hugged Shar, picking her up off the ground, and swinging her around. She laughed, hugging him back, and despite myself I felt a little stab of jealousy. Dean was so easy with women, I could tell he and Sharika would become quick friends in a way that would take Lauren and me much longer – and not because of her. But then, I was glad too. I wanted Dean to accept her into the family, for there was no guarantee that Dad would.

As long as he kept his hands off her – I was fine with it.

He let go of her and turned to me. We stared at each other for a second, and then as one moved forward and gave each other an awkward hug.

∞∞

_Lauren_

My mouth opened, dropping a piece of half-chewed toast onto the bedspread.

That is how shocked I was.

They were hugging. _Hugging_. _Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam. _They were _hugging_.

Sharika and I stared at each other for a second, and then went back to watching them. I wouldn't get a chance to see it again – although Sharika would, anytime she wanted. Damn seer powers.

They clapped each other on the back a few times, then let go, giving each other uncomfortable smiles.

Dean opened his mouth, and I waited for his trademark smartass comment. Instead, he closed it, shook his head and smiled more easily. Then he came and sat next to me on the bed.

"You didn't ruin it!" I said, and grinned at him. "I'm surprised."

"What can I say?"

"Promise that you'll hug more often."

"Why of course!"

"Now you be sarcastic," I said, and rolled my eyes.

I mean, Sharika and I hardly ever hug, but we did it more often than these two did. I was amazed – people who were even more awkward about public affection than Sharika.

I'd never thought it was possible until now.

∞∞

_Sam_

"What happened? Why did you ask _Lauren_ to make your breakfast?" Shar asked curiously, obviously wondering why Dean would do such a thing.

"I-" he started to say, but was interrupted by Laurens menacing look. "Umm…"

"Yeah?" I said, my thumb running over Sharika's fingers as I held her small hand in mine.

He averted his gaze away from Lauren and looked back at me. "Where were you two all this time, we've been up for awhile now." He changed the subject, forcing a grin. Which was hard under his _circumstances_.

"We were distracted by the chocolate," Sharika answered. I looked at her, catching her eye. We shared a smile before returning our attention back to Dean.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I turned away from Dean to look at Sharika and Sa- I mean, the _affianced_ couple, only to see them prove the point I'd been trying to tell myself all morning.

They were giving each other one of those secretive, couple-y smiles that made the singles around the couples wish they were in a relationship, and latch onto the nearest member of the opposite (or not – whatever floats your boat) sex.

HELLO!?!? I felt like yelling at them. THIS IS WHAT IS MAKING ME WANT TO BE ALL COUPLE-Y WITH DEAN – SO STOP ALREADY!!!

But it was just too cute. I was so happy for Sharika.

∞∞

_Dean_

See, now that's what I'm talking about.

Sam and Shar were giving each other this steamy, romantic look. It made the temperature in the room go up by about ten degrees Celsius.

How was I supposed to go around untouched by it? That sort of look was making me think I have feelings for Lauren, when I would normally realise in a blink that that was completely ridiculous.

So, please, keep it for when you're alone, would you?

∞∞

_Lauren_

"I want chocolate, give me chocolate, I DEMAND chocolate!" I held out my hand towards them.

And then they burst into laughter…and more…and more…and more. What's so funny?

"Lauren-" Sharika managed to choke out in her fits of laughter. "Sam took care of it, oh, and we made you pancakes!"

"Really?!" I bounced out into the lounge room, Dean following me. I was greeted by the sight of pancakes that looked worse then mine, if that was even possible, which I hadn't thought it was until I saw the pancakes they had made. What were they thinking?! I'm not going to eat that, and I doubt that Dean-

"Oh, looks good!" I heard Dean exclaim as he grabbed a plate and piled the pancakes onto it. He struck a fork into the pancakes and took a huge bite of three at once. He chewed with every sign of enjoyment. Ugh, how could he do that? HOW!

"Oh, by the way," Sharika said from behind me. "I looked up the address on the internet and found out where we are going."

"Dude, how could you eat that? Even I couldn't eat them after I made them," Sam said. He stood, staring at Dean with a disgusted expression on his face.

Dean only looked relieved as he spat his mouthful back onto the plate. "Thank god, I thought Sharika made them so I thought I had to eat them!" He placed the plate back on the table.

"Uh, Dean," I interjected. "I thought Sharika made them and I wasn't going to eat them."

"I can cook you know!" Sharika cried out indignantly. "Why does everyone automatically presume that I'm a bad cook?"

"Becau-" I started to say.

"You're a chipper!"

"What?" I asked Shar, confused by whatever she was going on about. "A chipper?"

Sharika sat down on the lounge, and affected a wise expression. "Sit down, my children. Now I shall tell you a tale, of magic and wonderment –"

"Sharika, just spit it out. I don't want the wise storyteller spiel from you," I interrupted.

"You curb my fun all the time Lauren."

"What can I say? I'm a fun-curber. Besides, you tried to trick me into eating those pancakes. You know how much I love pancakes."

"Anyways," Sharika resumed, shooting me a dirty look. "Listen. The address the informant gave us is for a party being held tonight, for a modeling agency."

"That should make you happy, eh Dean?" Sam spoke up, giving Dean a grin. I rolled my eyes, and then realized that Dean surrounded by starving (in more ways than one) models was probably not a good thing. I mean, where would I sleep when he brought one of them back?

At least I can depend on one person, that wonderful, special, Lauren-y person everyone knows and loves –

"I used to work for the guy hosting that party, and he will _definitely_ remember me, so we'll have no trouble getting in."

- and I especially love her, she's such a beautiful person, and I would marry her, if you could marry yourself, but you can't because that would just be –

"Why?" Dean asked, giving Sharika one of his looks – one that conveyed 'what the hell did you do'?

- weird, and crazy, and what if you ran out of bread, and you were busy, you couldn't ask yourself to go down to the corner store and get you some, because that wouldn't make any sense –

"Never mind that, you'll see tonight. Sam said you two have suits already – but Lauren and I need to go shopping for our dresses," Sharika informed the males.

"Right, well we'll just…" Dean and Sam looked at each other, at a loss.

- because you yourself were busy, but that doesn't mean that I love Lauren any less, and how was I supposed to satisfy myself at night, unless I got a dildo, but I don't want a dildo that doesn't vibrate –

"Lauren, you do realize that we can hear you?" Sharika interrupted my rant.

OHhhh. I hadn't even realized I was talking out loud.

"Why were you talking about loving yourself and dildos?" Dean asked, grinning at me. "Wait, wait, let me get the visual." He paused, while I stared at him open mouthed. "Yeah, now go on."

"I was talking about loving myself and dildos for the same reason – I'm desperate!!" I said, pretending to swoon. "I need a big strong man to –"

But then I started laughing, and couldn't continue. This was because Sharika was giggling too, for some reason or other, and then Sam interrupted us with, "What's so funny?"

Sharika looked up, trying to stop herself, and said, "Let's just say it involves sleeping-wear water balloons filled with bright red paint, and certain other spiteful bitches, who thought it was perfectly mature to –"

I controlled myself, breathing in deeply and calmly, and interrupted before Shar could start a rant on about bitches and the Dome. "So, shopping?!" I asked, joyous. I do love to shop.

Dean looked confused at Sharika and her rant, which contrasted with Sam's complete look of understanding. My god. Does he know more about her than I do or something? Because, I don't know what she's on about. About her trip to England she only mentioned the Dome, some pizza joint, and her friend David who'd died, to me.

What else was there?

"Yes, we need dresses. Nothing we have is appropriate for _Clause_."

"Claus? Like Santa? Cool."

"Not like Santa Lauren," Sharika said, giving me a condescending look.

"She still believes in Santa?" Dean asked, turning to Sam.

"Sharika…?" I asked, giving my best friend an unsure look, my voice quavering. (I was only being playful – but they didn't have to know that. Of course Santa isn't real.)

Sharika caught onto my act, and played along by giving Sam and Dean an anxious look, and saying hurriedly and reassuringly to me (looking scared), "Of course Santa is real, Lauren!"

"Good, Sharika, because I just couldn't bear the thought of living in a world without Santa Claus!!" I burst into dramatic tears, and wrapped my arms around myself. Gently stroking my back and rocking myself back and forth I said, "Its okay Lauren, I'm here for you, don't cry…I love you Lauren!!"

Sharika cracked up, as did I, at the expression on the Winchester brothers' faces.

"Okay…"

"You do realize we're just playing around?" I asked them, raising my eyebrows, and wiping my face free of tears. "Jeez."

"Shopping?" Shar asked me.

"Shopping."

"Yeah… do we want to go with them?" Dean asked Sam, looking at us. Sam doesn't, he wants to stay with Sharika the whole day, because he loves her so much. Aww… How the hell am I not supposed to conflict my emotions, with this going around like some sort of flu!?! STUPID EMPATHY AND STUPID SAM AND SHARIKA AND – "Yeah, we do," Dean decided for both of them.

"Right," I said, and looked at the three of them. "Now, I'm going to go get dressed…the three of you stay here, no matter what peculiar urges you may have to follow me. _Stay._"

"We get it Lauren," Sharika said. "Have you packed your things?" she asked, turning to Sam.

"_Pack? Things_?" I parroted, emphasizing those two words as much as I could. WHAT!?!

Sam shook his head. "Almost done, Lauren, we're swapping rooms now."

AN: Thanks for all your support guys! It thrilled us to no end to know how much you guys are backing this story! Hope you enjoyed this update! Reviews are love, as ever!


	8. It's A Surprise

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**It's A Surprise**

_So now I say the things I want to say  
Sometimes it's better letting go this way  
I'll always know  
Down in my soul  
We really had so far to go  
I've given all I had to give  
And now it's time for me to live  
And I won't look back  
And I won't regret_  
_Though hurts like hell_

Letting Go – Sozzi

_Lauren _

I gaped at them, and then I started screaming. "I'M NOT SWAPPING, I PAID FOR HALF OF THAT ROOM, AND I –" Well, it wasn't really about the money. At all.

"Do you really want to sleep – or should I say, try to sleep – in the same room as those two? Think about all the –" Dean started, but I held my hand up.

"_Fine._" I am obviously second best to the guy with the penis, so I'll just go and pack my things, and move in with Dean – oh my god, move in with _Dean_…I hate you Sharika.

I left the room, fuming, and strode to number 15. Letting myself into the bedroom, I avoided the two beds that had been pushed together with great care, and made my way over to my suitcase.

Now I could finally get out of my 'Got Milk?' shirt and into something passably normal. I grabbed some jeans and an off-the-shoulder black top (and a bra and underwear), and walked into the bathroom. I took off my clothes, and slipped into the shower, hopeful that this time I wouldn't be interrupted.

Ten minutes later I hopped out, and put my chosen clothes on, picking up the others and stuffing them into my suitcase when I went back into the bedroom. I turned around, and shrieked.

"Sharika!" I said finally, after my heart rate had calmed down. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, leaving Sam's bag and helping you with yours?"

"Oh." I nodded, smiled a little fragilely (hoping she wouldn't notice), and turned away, packing my stuff into my cases. It wasn't that I was that pissed at her, I was just a little nostalgic, considering the fact that we hadn't been away from each other for two straight months, and before that we'd lived in the same house while going to university, and before _that_ we'd gone to the same high school. Now she was moving in with her fiancé, and I just felt a little pushed aside. Little being, you know, a huge understatement. She's known him for how many days now, and me for how many _years?_ And yet, it was still super easy for her to replace me as soon as he came along.

I didn't even have Joyee and Fiona to lean on. I felt like everyone was just slipping away from me, but I guess that's what happens as you grow older. I couldn't blame Shar for falling in love.

I wouldn't.

I smiled at her, more naturally, as we lugged my bags to Dean's – _my_ room. Living with Dean. In the same bedroom.

Yeah, that was going to be fun.

"I'm so happy for you," I said, and hugged her, just outside the room. "Really."

"I thought you were pissed at me?"

"Was."

"I just want to thank you. You've been there for me since year nine, when we were fourteen. Things have changed so much since then, hasn't it? And even though I love Sam and am looking forward to spending my life with him, I'll always miss the way we used to be. We've had so much fun, laughter and even hard times through all these years. So thank you for always being there for me." She said, looking totally serious.

"Aww," I cooed sarcastically. She would never know how my heart had leapt painfully in my chest when she said that, how she'd affected me with her words. It hurts, so badly to see her leaving me, even if it's not really leaving, just moving on, upwards, to a more fulfilled life. It always hurts to let go of those you love – and seeing as how my hugest fear was people not needing me anymore…well. "Awww. _Awwwwww_."

"Lauren, I was being serious!!!" She exclaimed, looking offended.

"I love you too Sharika, now lets go inside," I said as I opened the door and walked in.

∞∞

_Sharika_

_Note to self, stop making stupid cheesy speeches outside of motel room doorways!_ I sighed. Honestly, first the whole 'don't call me, I'll call you' thing with Sam and now this with Lauren. There was something about this door that made me spew out the lamest cheesiest lines ever, other then that 'Don't be shy baby. You know you want to,' line Dean sprouted that night. That was honestly the most ridiculous line I've ever heard.

I walked in behind Lauren, who was already unpacking in her room. I watched her with melancholy eyes; she'd never really know how much I'd miss her.

I shifted my gaze from Lauren to my future husband. _Husband_…it sounds so grown-up. When I was in high school I used to have conversations about 'future husbands' with my friends. Lauren said she's always seen me with a smart, tall, thoughtful, sexy man. There was more she said that he had to be, but most of it's not fit for polite company. I always used to retort to her comments or just plain ignore them, thinking to myself that no man like that would ever actually like me, let alone love me.

But now, as I looked over Sam's profile, he was hunched over the counter talking to Dean, I realized that she was right. Sam was all those things, especially tall. But he was so much more; he was sweet, intelligent, caring, kind, funny-

"AWW!" Lauren yelled from her room. "AWW…ummm…AWW! Don't be so sappy! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER WINCHESTER?!"

"ME?!" Dean called out in surprise. "What did I do to her?"

"Not you Blondie!" Lauren clarified. "The other one! You know, Yeti Boy-aah!"

One of her shirts blew up in her face, courtesy of me and one of my many powers. I loved my powers.

"Not happy Jan!" Lauren said, as she tossed her previously wearable shirt over her shoulder.

I sat down on the chair, waiting for Lauren to complete unpacking – wait, _why_ was she unpacking _now_?

"LAUREN! Why are you unpacking when we are meant to go shopping?" I asked, in disbelief that I hadn't realized this before.

"Meh, okay," she replied, throwing her suitcase in the air causing all her clothes to fall out of it and scatter all over the floor.

"Glad I'm not living with her anymore," I muttered under my breath.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU SAID TWO MINUTES AGO!" Lauren yelled as she ran by us, almost as if she was racing us to the car. At the doorway she stopped, looked back at the three of us and smiled so sweetly, that you had to excuse her eccentricities. It was Lauren. You can't really expect her to be any other way.

Dean shrugged to us, smiling, then grabbed his denim jacket and followed, leaving the door open.

"Shall we?" Sam asked me, offering his arm to me.

I took it, and leaned against his body. "I can't believe that I'm turning into one of those annoyingly lovey dovey couples you see on TV; what have you done to me Winchester?" I repeated what Lauren had said mere moments ago.

"The same thing you have done to me Mesba," Sam retorted playfully.

We walked towards the car park in front of the motel; hand in hand, (remembering to lock the motel door) in comfortable silence. We stopped in front of the car Lauren and I owned. It was a navy blue Holden Monaro VT, the newest version. I didn't know much about cars and neither did Lauren, but from the research we did it was a safe, yet fast car. We had won it at a fair when Lauren _guessed_ the weight of the car itself. I bought the ticket so therefore we both owned it, fifty-fifty.

"Whoa, how'd you get this? Last time I checked this cost about ninety two thousand dollars," Dean asked, walking around and admiring the car.

"We won it," I replied simply.

"_I_ won it," Lauren chorused behind me.

I pulled out the keys and pressed the button on the key chain. The car flashed twice before unlocking the doors, I opened the driver's seat side door and slid inside. After a sudden shout of "Shotgun" Lauren took the passenger seat while Dean and Sam had no other choice but to sit in the back.

I put the keys in the ignition hole and turned them, the engine roared to life.

"Which shop are we going to?" Lauren asked, turning on the radio.

"Annie's Dress's," I replied, as I checked the mirror to make sure that the path behind us was clear.

"It's too quiet," Lauren decided, five minutes down the road. She turned on the radio; the old familiar tunes of Cartoon Hero's by Aqua filled the car. "AH!" she screamed in horror. "CARTOON HEROES!!"

I don't know why, but Lauren detested this song.

"Change it to the CD," I requested her as I reared out of the parking spot and drove out onto the road. I drove down the street at the exact speed limit – which is more than can be said of Lauren's driving. It was like she was still a seventeen year old who had just received her P's. She either drove under the speed limit by fifteen kilometers or over it by the same amount. And she was always nervous.

"Is it the one with the A.R.Rhaman songs?" Lauren wanted to know.

"Yeah," I replied, concentrating on the road.

"Who is Air Rhaman?" Dean asked. "Never heard of him."

"Aah Are Rha-man!" Lauren enunciated slowly for him. She pressed a few buttons before a woman's voice come from the speakers.

"Jinke Sar Ho Ishq Ki Chaaon" the melodious voice sung.

"What the hell type of music is this?" Dean asked. Sam cuffed him on the head. "I mean to say," he started again, smiling civilly, "What language is it?"

"Hindi," I answered, turning right at the corner. "And it's like, one of the most famous songs out there."

"Chaiyya, Chaiyya," Lauren sang along with the CD.

"And don't diss it, or you'll have hordes of his fans after your blood." And I was completely serious about it. A.R.Rhaman was one of the most prestigious singers of all time. Everyone loved his songs and he even traveled world wide. I attended one of his concerts when I was fourteen.

"Dean's just uncomfortable outside his world of mullet rock, that's all," Sam tried to defend Dean's actions, as if he was a small child.

"It could be worse you know," I told Dean. "I only know three Hindi songs, the rest are English. I don't even know any Bangla songs, except for that February one, but I only know two words from it, one of them being February. I'm such a travesty to my own culture." And that was true. I hardly knew how to speak my own language. I could only count to five in Bangla! All my uncles and Aunts made fun of the way I spoke, which was a combination of Bangla and English.

Neither Dean nor Sam responded. At a loss of what to say I guess.

"If You Could Only See is number four, I think," I informed Lauren as Chaiyya Chaiyya finished. She nodded and changed the track number to four.

"_If you could only see the way she loves me, maybe you would understand, why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do_…" Lauren sang along to the radio.

She was in perfect harmony with the artist, Tonic, and I didn't mind. I was used to it. Besides, she'd introduced me to Tonic in the first place, and these days it was one of my favorite songs. I glanced in my rearview mirror at the guys – they didn't know it. But then, what can you expect of Dean – who Sam says only listens to 'the classic mullet rock of the eighties', and Sam, who I saw as more of a modern rock type. This song was alternative rock, so I hadn't expected them to know it – yet. Sam would learn.

"_If you could only see how blue her eyes can be when she says…when she says she loves me_…"

When that song was finished we rode the rest of the way in comparative silence except for the continuous songs playing from the CD and Lauren's singing, only broken a few times by Lauren or Dean asking if we were there yet, and then squabbling with each other, taking turns in saying 'if we were there, we would have _stopped_ Dean/Lauren!'. They reminded me of little kids so much sometimes…well actually often.

The car halted to a stop as I reversed parked right in front of the store. _Got lucky_, I thought to myself.

We all got out, and I pressed on the button on the keychain again, to lock the doors.

I looked at Lauren. "Ready?" I asked.

I usually do ask her, I have a particular taste when it comes to clothes, and it usually takes me awhile to find something I like. Not that long, but still quite a bit. That's why I like to go shopping with my parents, they don't complain. And I have an unlimited amount of money to use.

"Ready," she replied.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"_Well you've got your reasons, and you've got your lies…and you've got your manipulations… they cut me down to size. Sayin' you love but you don't. You give your love but you won't_…" I sang softly to myself as I looked over the dresses. I love Tonic.

I glanced over my shoulder where Dean was being harassed by the shop lady – either trying to sell him a tux, or herself.

I snickered to myself into the dresses at that thought. Sorry, but yes. Hem. I wonder how he's going to get out of that fix. Oh well, not _my_ problem.

I was looking over a safe, purple concoction of silk and lace, when a hand slipped around my waist, and pulled me into a hard side. I looked up in surprise at Dean, who gave me a sensitive and (totally fake) loving smile. "I told the lady you were having a little trouble choosing a dress, my love," he said to me, while the shop lady – Rhonda – gave me a poisonous look. _My love?!?!_

I coughed, "Actually –"

"Your boyfriend said you go for more of an adventurous look," Rhonda said, her voice high and nasally. She was a plump woman, around middle age I guessed. Brown hair piled atop her head, and two inch high heels made her look even taller than she was – and made me feel like an oompa-loompa. "Annie's caters to every taste, so I suggest –"

She reached behind me into the racks, while I gave Dean a poisonous look of my own. "Why don't you let her pick on someone her own size?" I hissed at him. He simply grinned, and tightened his hold on my waist when I tried to move away.

"This," Rhonda stated with a flourish, and she held out a tiny, emerald green dress. There was no way I'd be able to squeeze myself into that by the looks of it, and Rhonda knew it.

"It looks perfect to me," Dean said; perfectly oblivious to the power struggle between the shop woman and I. "Try it on, honey."

_HONEY_?!

Well, I couldn't back down now; look at Rhonda's smug face!!

"Right," I said, with a simpering smile. I reached out for the dress, and it was passed over with a minimum of fuss. I actually liked the colour and cut of the dress, except for the fact that if I could ever get it over my hips (unlikely), it would come half-way down my thighs – if that. And the bust – I'm not even going to start.

I looked around for Sharika and Sam as I headed for the change-rooms; they were looking at an ivory dress in the other side of the shop. I notice _Sharika_ isn't being picked on by the shop lady from hell.

I guess being couple-y is good for _something_.

I sighed to myself as I stripped off in the cubicle. Being couple-y is good for lots of things. If I was being truthful I could admit I was a little jealous of Shar. She was so safe and sure of Sam's love for her; the last time I'd been in a relationship was about three months before the demon kidnapped Joyee and Fiona – and that hadn't ended so well. He was pressuring me to go all the way, I wasn't ready… long story short, I found him banging my Drama teacher on one of the desks in her classroom.

So, I'm a little cynical about guys and their interest in me these days.

I pulled the dress off its hanger and unzipped the side. "Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself, and stepped into it. _Dean's paying for it if it rips_, I thought to myself, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and stomach pulled in as I tugged the dress upwards.

Tug, tug, tug…tug, tug…

And it kept going.

I stared down in surprise as it slipped into place over my breasts. In a kind of trance, I pushed my arms under the straps, and shifted it a little, so it fit properly and was slipped into the right position. I pulled the zipper, waiting for it to stop or something, but it kept going, all the way to the top.

I leant against the change-room wall for a second. _Oookay_… I guess all the kick-boxing I've been doing has helped with more than my high-kicks.

Unfortunately, there was no mirror in the cubicle, so I didn't even get to see how ridiculous I looked before the others did. The dress did end half way up my thighs, just as I'd hypothesized, and the under-wire built into the bust made my – um, appendages – look bigger than they ever did in my poor 'Got Milk?' t-shirt – a feat I'd thought impossible. The way the dress was cut made sure I couldn't wear a bra, and I'd have to wear a g-string or backless underwear if I didn't want panty-lines. That's if I bought this dress, which I doubted. I mean, I probably looked like a pig squeezed into a green silk glove, it was so snug. Maybe I could pretend it didn't fit or –

"Lauren? Are you done? Dean said you were trying on a dress. You have to show me!" Sharika's voice sounded from outside the door. Damn.

"Well-" I started, trying to think of an excuse. But one didn't come to mind.

"Come out, Sam's choosing a dress for me," she laughed. "It's a good way to see how his taste runs in relation to clothes for women. I have to see if he's chosen something – you know – or not, so hurry." I heard her footsteps leave.

Taking a deep breath, I undid the locks on the door and stepped out.

I walked back into the shop. Sharika and Dean were on the other side of the shop, laughing at Sam, who was holding up square-necked chartreuse gown, and blushing. Rhonda stood to the side with a condescending smile. She was the first to see me.

Her mouth dropped.

_Oh god, I look _that_ bad…?_

This was no time to chicken out. I mean, I couldn't leave without them noticing now, and it was better to look the lion straight in the eye, rather than him having a clear view of your rump. _Your huge, green colored rump…_

I bit my lip, and then cleared my throat.

Dean looked up. I lifted one shoulder, and gave him an unsure smile. Kind of like I was saying 'so what do you think – _honey_'. Why did I even care what he thought? I mean, it was his fault if I looked –

"Whoa, baby," he said softly. I swallowed as he looked me over. Suddenly I was very aware of everything, the way the material shifted on my skin, the tiles beneath my bare feet, the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

_OHhhhh…_

"Lauren?" Sharika asked, her voice all weird. Even Sam was staring at me.

"That's it, I'm taking it off!" I decided, and turned to hurry back into the change rooms, but before I was even halfway there Dean grabbed me.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his face totally serious. "Come and see how you look."

"But –" and then I was thrust in front of a mirror.

My God.

Now I know why they were staring.

My skank outfit from last night hadn't left much to the imagination; it was almost juvenile in the way it had showed everything off, like it was shouting 'screw me, I've got boobs!!' There was nothing juvenile about this dress.

It was subtle, the way it made use of my body, clinging here, flowing a little there; it made men wish they knew what was beneath the dress, rather than them being able to deduce exactly what I'd look like in bed without taking my clothes off. If that makes sense.

Dean's hands were on my shoulders, and I looked into his eyes in the mirror. _Don't feel like that…_ I thought, my insides going all mushy as empathy hit me and he didn't break eye contact. _It makes me feel like that… _

I wished everyone gone. I wanted – I needed –

"We're buying this dress," Dean said, his voice leaving no room for excuse.

If I was any other person, that is.

"Don't you –"

"Not a word."

"But –"

He placed his hand over my mouth and nodded my head for me. Mimicking my voice he said, "Yes Dean, I totally and completely agree. I'll go take it off now while you pay for it." He let go of my mouth and pushed me towards the change-rooms.

"But –"

And he whacked me on the butt. I glared at him from over my shoulder, and strode towards the cubicles. Just because I'm wearing a skirt, does not mean men may touch my ass!! First that bearded biker last night, and then Dean today –

Okay, it's totally different. I don't _know_ the biker…

I sighed as I took the dress off. And now I'd have to pay Dean back, there was no way I'd be able to afford this dress by myself. I didn't like being beholden to anyone. This dress wasn't even my choice! I mean, I didn't even get to try anything else on, or look properly…

Ok, this dress made me look super-hot, model material almost. But –

_ARRGH!! Stop rationalizing!! It's Shar's thing, not yours. You're not even doing it properly, jumping from one thing to the next… _

I shook my head, and put my normal clothes back on. I didn't even try to put the dress back on the hanger – I was as hopeless at that as I was at cooking in a pan.

I'm hopeless at weird things. I mean, I can fold clothes, and iron them, and wash them perfectly. I can't hang them up or put them on the line though. And I can cook anything I like in an oven, or a pot, or a microwave. But show me a pan, and I get everything burnt, or tasting so strange you can barely swallow a crumb of it. And – I don't do cutlery. Anything except eat with it. I have no idea why – I just have this thing against washing it, setting it on tables, putting it away…I'm just weird I guess.

I left the change room again, the dress folded neatly over my arm. It was of a slinky, soft material, not scratchy at all. It was perfect.

UGH!! SAP!!!

I gave myself a mental slap, and smiled at Rhonda as she checked the price tag. I even smiled at Dean, though a little more shyly, and he bent down and nuzzled my ear – playing it up for Rhonda. "If every man isn't jealous of me tonight, then I'm no judge of beauty."

"Who says I'm going with you?" I asked just to be contrary; though I didn't really have anyone else I _could _go with.

"I say."

I rolled my eyes_, so overbearing._ And yet so…man whore-ish. He's such a man whore. Which is why he's saying these things, they're made to get chicks hot. I'm not going to fall for it.

Sharika appeared next to my shoulder. "I didn't see anything I liked, and we have to get your shoes, etcetera, so once Dean's done paying we are –"

"Vamoose!" I interrupted. She gave me a look. "Sorry, I just really wanted to say that."

"Have a nice day!" Rhonda said, lacking the usual luster of a shop person that's just made a commission. I suppose I'd feel the same way if men like Dean came into my shop, and happened to be 'taken'.

∞∞

_Dean_

If anyone had told me I could be turned on that fast, on a _shopping trip_, before this morning, I'd have laughed myself sick.

But now I knew better.

I still had trouble breathing, ten minutes after Lauren had gotten out of that dress, and tight jeans probably _hadn't_ been the best option that morning. Except for the fact that, hey, they hadn't been tight until _now_. I hoped I was hiding most of my reaction from her empath powers, but how would I _know_ unless she said something?

That was the problem with being the only one in the group without 'powers'. Everyone knew something more than I did, in one way or another. It got to me sometimes; I wasn't jealous, just cautious. Plus, they only added to the amounts of danger Sammy got himself into. With two more of these demon magnets hanging around, we'll never have any free time.

I hadn't let go of Lauren's waist since we'd left the dress store – and I still didn't have a reason. Sure, I'd told her it was because we couldn't take the time for every guy to flirt with her and still buy Sharika a dress, but of course, that wasn't it. Though as it was, stationed by her side I was noticing all the looks she got from guys.

And it was making me hold her even closer.

"What is it?" Lauren asked me, and I looked down at her. "You feel really agitated, but I'm confused as to the _why_. Wanna enlighten me? I mean, seeing as how it's my body you're mauling."

"It's nothing, just thinking about tonight." What _part_ of tonight, you don't need to know. "I'm gonna go grab a coffee. Sammy! Break!" Sam looked up in relief. Shopping for dresses – even with the love of his life – wasn't his thing either. "Want anything?" I asked, letting her go.

"An Irish Cream Latte," she grinned. "Sorry to be fancy – it's my favorite flavor."

"Got it." It was no more fancy than what Sam preferred.

We left the girls, and headed to the Starbucks across the street.

"So, how was your first outing with your fiancé?" I asked, as I waited in the queue with Sam. "Tiring?"

"That, and I wanted to choke every guy looking at her. I never thought I'd feel so possessive. I mean, I've never actually felt this possessive. It's weird."

"Yeah, you're telling me," I muttered. I smiled extra flirtatiously at the woman I gave our orders to, and heard Sammy sigh next to me, as I made idle chit chat and innuendo. "Thanks," I said, as she passed the drinks over.

"Anytime," she said, and simpered. _Simpered_. Lauren never did, unless it was a joke –

I shook my head clear and sat at one of the tables, Sam dropping into the chair across from me.

"Face it," he said suddenly. "You like her."

"Tara?" I asked in exaggerated surprise (the coffee woman's name). "I only just met her."

"Its interesting the way you two look at each other, only when the other isn't looking. I mean, you'll look at her, then you'll look away. And when you look away, she'll check you out. It's just an interesting observation, you know, in an observationally interesting way."

Where the hell did he come up with his speeches?

"There are more important things to talk about then coffee house women, as nice as they may seem. Such as –"

"Why can't you admit it?" Sam burst out, exasperated.

"_Such as_," I repeated, deciding to ignore him. I stood up, grabbing Lauren's drink, and Sam followed, picking up Sharika's. "The blue man. Did you and Sharika figure anything out about him, or were you too _busy_?"

"No, we did our part. What about you? _Did _you guys think of anything?"

"Nope. We were playing Scrabble."

Sam laughed as we crossed the road. "_You_? _Scrabble_?"

"Yes." I walked to the door of the shop we'd left the girls in, but before we got there they came out, Sharika with an extra bag.

"You're done?" Sam asked, going straight up to her, and swapping the bag for the cup. She nodded, and took a grateful sip.

"Thanks, yes, and don't peek!" She didn't even have to look at him to know that he was opening the bag. "It's a surprise."

"Here," I said, offering Lauren the coffee. "Irish Cream Latte, your favorite."

She smiled, and took the Styrofoam cup. "Thanks." She looked down at herself for a second. "Am I meant to offer you my waist back, or what?"

I grinned and shook my head. "That's okay, now Sharika has her dress you can flirt with as many guys as you like."

I'll control my urge to choke them.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I found the perfect dress, I love it. Although my savings did take a one hundred and thirty four dollar hit I still felt happy. (Not to worry though, I've had this savings account since I was fourteen and had made quite a lot of money in my many _jobs_ in England.) It was a strapless black dress which started to slant down, half-way my upper thigh, it stopped at my knee. It was made to bunch up at my right hip in the shape of a small flower. I hope Sam likes it.

I just don't know why but Clause always put me in dresses, pants and skirts that always ended just above my knees, always leaving my calves visible to the public. He didn't come into contact with me personally; he had his people tell me.

He did the same thing to one other person, Ashley. Oh god how I hated Ashley! She was she one and only person whom I've ever hated. Normally I harbor no feelings to any person that I did not get along with. I didn't hate them but I didn't like them either. I 'nothinged' them, if that makes sense. But Ashley, she was a totally different story.

I had no idea what she had against me. She was against me from the start. She's just a spiteful bitch I guess. Once she set my room on fire. Luckily it was contained quickly, but it had eaten up my wardrobe. All my clothes were lost in that fire, it could have been worse, much, much worse. My roommate could have been taking her afternoon nap during the fire. I thank god that she was out that day.

I had nothing to wear but my school uniform until I bought more clothes, but I was NOT going to do that. I marched over to her dorm room and packed up her clothes and left, (luckily we were the same size). Her roommate didn't even look surprised. She simply pointed to which cupboard Ashley owned and then went back to reading her magazine.

She destroyed my clothes and therefore it was perfectly alright for me to take her clothes as compensation. I know that you're thinking, that she should have been charged with arson, but the police had no evidence that the fire was intentional. They assumed it was an electrical short. I knew better. She did try to fight for her clothes back but soon lost interest. I had led her on to the idea that I was holding proof that she started that fire, but truthfully I didn't. She didn't need to know that.

I got back at though, with help from David and a few other select friends. We pulled a series of pranks on her until she was pushed past her breaking point. She freaked out and confessed to cheating on her long time boyfriend with many, many, many other boys in public. Since her boyfriend at the time was not a bad guy (no idea how they had gotten together) everyone turned against her and aligned with Charlie.

There was this time where I had to make a video because of her. She blackmailed me into making that video for her, well actually she blackmailed my friend. Janice had a tough time when she was about twelve, she did a lot of things she wasn't proud of and was currently moving on from it. We were all proud of how she had turned her life around. We supported her and helped her through her darkest times.

Well, Ashley got a hold of said past through her list of 'contacts'. She said if I didn't do that video she would post the information she had all over the Dome, school and the internet. Janice would be humiliated and ostracized from the community. When she had moved from America to England she got a clean slate to work with. She was free from the ties that bound her. She was happy. I wasn't going to let Ashley ruin it for her. She made me a deal, she'd give me the information she had in exchange for my co-operation for the video. Ashley may be a lot of things, but a foul player she was not, honor meant a lot to her. Ironic isn't it?

She forced me to create a dance to Hips Don't Lie, by Shakira. David (I told him the compromising situation I was in and he decided to help me out) sang the guys part and one of Ashley's friends sang Shakira's part. I had to belly dance in it wearing a…an _original_ outfit. Well my dance was a mixture of middle-eastern belly dancing and Indian moves. After it was made she entered it into a contest and won five hundred dollars. This video was what had me make my mark in the Dome. They hung the outfit I wore in the video in the head office of the Dome. Do they still even have it? I did make Dome history with the way I _danced_ in that video…

I wonder if she'll be here tonight, I doubt it. She'll probably working in a business firm now. She'd make a hell of a business woman, emphasis on the hell.

I think Lisa and Patricia might be there, I'm not exactly ecstatic about seeing the pair of them. Two bumbling chippers who had nothing more interesting to talk about then frivolous gossip (I had kept in contact with the friends who I had at the Dome. None of them were coming.) But Lisa and Patricia were probably the nicest people.

I know a few girls would still work for him, some part time the others full. Clause was one of those people who were constantly up to date with the latest news in the model world so he could bring in who ever he needed for his fashion shows. It worked for him. He was extremely successful in his field.

"You're done?" Sam asked me. I looked up and saw him walk towards me. I smiled mentally, a warm sensation sweeping through my body. This happened every time I saw him. He took my bag (what a gentleman!) and handed me my hot chocolate. I took a sip.

"Thanks, yes, and don't peek!" I knew that he would take out the dress without even looking at him. I wanted him to be surprised by how the dress looked on me. "It's a surprise."

I looked up at him, smiling. He had such beautiful blue green eyes. And perfect brown hair. I hope that when we have children they get his height, eyes and hair, a mixture of our skin colors (our kids will have that perfect tan skin everyone is always after) and whatever gene I inherited that caused me to have hardly any pimples my whole life. (I rarely got a pimple.)

I would work on cases at home in the study and he would be at the office, coming home at five. Or he'd be at home and I'd be in the office. We'd alternate which days we stay home depending on our schedules.

Our children (I want at least three) will be playing in the yard or in their room's reading a book, playing with their toys or doing homework.

Dinner would be cooked by six and the whole family would sit at the dinner table discussing the day's events.

"That's okay, now Sharika has her dress you can flirt with as many guys as you like."

Dean's words broke me out of my utopia like trance.

∞∞

_Sam_

"It's a surprise."

Sharika looked up at me smiling. Suddenly her eyes glazed over and I could tell she was no longer in the present.

She looked so cute, standing there, a small smile delicately placed upon her lips.

My eyes drifted away from my day dreaming fiancé to the bag in my hand. What's in the bag? Why doesn't she want me to look in the bag? Why can't I see it? What does this bag contain? Why is it being kept a secret? It can't just contain a dress or otherwise she would have let me see it. Wouldn't she? Does whatever the bag is holding concern me? It has to have concerned me or otherwise she would have let me see it. Why would she buy something from a dress store for me? Unless she didn't buy it from this dress store but another store. This mall was full of clothing stores though. Clothing and lingerie –

Maybe that's why she was being secretive; she didn't want me to pull out her _special lingerie_ in front of Dean. Not that I blame her. What type of lingerie could she have gotten? Lace, satin, or silk? What ever it was I couldn't wait to see.

We all walked over to a table in front of Starbucks and sat down.

Sharika, with her hair messed up, wearing the _special lingerie_, grinning that grin she only has for me as she leaned against the doorway. That image took my breath away.

"Oh, I need to buy a g-string," Lauren paused. "Or a backless underwear." She took a sip of her coffee. "And shoes."

The tantalizing image of my future wife suddenly shifted, and Lauren's head appeared on her body. Lauren did her big smile and waved manically and then the visual popped out of my head, leaving the lingerie at the doorway.

"You don't already own some, I'm disappointed in you," Dean said, as he stared at Lauren's face, which was completely at ease.

"Lauren!" Shar exclaimed. "How can you blurt things like that out in public!?"

"It's a perfectly natural thing to talk about at the table," Lauren replied. She batted her eyelashes at Dean. "Right _honey_?"

Lauren…batting her eyelashes at Dean? Did I miss something here? I looked across the table and noticed a similar expression on Sharika's face. At least I wasn't alone.

"At my table at least _babe_," Dean answered.

Lauren laughed joyfully. "Oh Dean, why don't I get one for you too, _darling_?"

"Whatever floats your boat _dear_," Dean said, leaning across the table and giving Lauren an exaggerated wink.

Lauren replied with an equally exaggerated laugh.

Ok, seriously, what the hell did I miss here?

"Oh you!" Lauren gently hit Dean on his shoulder.

Sharika and I looked at each other confused. She slightly tilted her head, giving me a questioning look. _Any clue to what is going on?_ I read off her expression. I responded with raising my eyebrows. _No, you?_ Is what I tried to convey in my look. She understood. She shot me another curious glance before returning her attention back onto Dean and Lauren. As did I.

"Would you like anything else?" a woman's voice asked from behind me. I turned around to face her.

"No thanks," Lauren replied, staring at her coffee. "What about you guys?"

Dean, Sharika and I all shook our heads. Tara smiled at us, particularly Dean and left, putting an extra sway into her hips.

Lauren coughed into her coffee. "So who's coming with me to buy g-strings?" she asked, looking pointedly at Shar.

"Lauren, you're on your own for this one," Sharika replied, looking slightly disturbed at the thought.

"I need to buy shoes tooooooo," Lauren added quietly, almost singing the last word.

"I saw your dress and know what shoes will go with them, so you can go get the undergarments on your own."

"_Fine_," Lauren sighed as she accepted defeat. She finished the rest of her coffee before she got up and wandered away.

Now where was I? Ah, Sharika in her _special lingerie_ standing at my doorway…

000

AN: EEK!! Sam and his perverted-ness… (scared) Thanks for reviewing guys! And you will again. Know why? Know why? Cause you love us!! (insert infinite love hearts here) And we love you when you do!!


	9. This Is Going To Be A LONG Night

**Disclaimer: See chapter one. **

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER NINE**

**This Is Going To Be A LONG Night**

_Perfect by nature  
Icons of self indulgence  
Just what we all need  
More lies about a world that  
Never was and never will be  
Have you no shame don't you see me  
You know you've got everybody fooled  
Look here she comes now  
Bow down and stare in wonder  
Oh how we love you  
No flaws when you're pretending_

Everybody's Fool - Evanescence

_Lauren_

I considered a fashionable entrance as I stood outside lounge room, but eventually decided against it.

I was a _chipper_.

I bounded into the room, wearing my new dress, with my new 'undergarments' as Sharika called them – but minus the new shoes.

They were _high-heels_. Me in high heels is not the greatest combination. They tend to make me fall on my face. Otherwise, considering how tall I was (or should I say _wasn't_?), I'd wear them all the time.

_Chipper_, I thought to myself. _Feel the chipper_. _Be the chipper_.

I remembered back to when I was sitting on the bed while Shar put my make up on. (I could hardly breathe beneath all the goop.) I only hoped it was worth it.

Dean's face told me it was.

Mmm-mmm. It was strange to see him in a tux, but also strangely a turn on. He looked like a seventh grader getting ready for his first dance. _So cute_.

Sam was slouched in one of the chairs, glancing at his watch. Nice Sam. Nice. Where's my attention? WHERE????

"Will Shar be ready soon?" he asked, studying the door.

"Well… No. She spent all her time doing my make-up because she had this certain _look_ she wanted to give me; she hasn't even started on herself yet."

The boys sighed. "If we don't leave in ten minutes we'll be late for the party," Dean said, and patted the space on the lounge next to him. Now this was like a test flight – how would the dress handle sitting down?

I sat.

And the skirt rose up to about two inches below my…new undergarments.

I struggled to pull it into a more conservative position, without ripping it. It would be too much of a _Me_ thing to do tonight – and I was determined that nothing would go wrong. _Nothing!! You hear me?!?!_

I glanced up to see Dean trying to hide his laughter at my attempts. "Shut up!!" I said, depressed. Now I wouldn't be able to sit down all night. Unless I practically wanted to flash everyone standing in the vicinity.

He was just about to reply when I heard the door swing open. I lifted my head, and Sharika made her entrance.

Wow.

Wow…

∞∞

_Sam_

Whoa…

My mouth hung slightly open, she, she was more beautiful then I have words to describe. The dress she bought clung to her body in all the right places, her hair was done up in an elegant bun. This gave way for the make up she used to highlight her face, particularly her eyes.

The way the light hit her made her look as though she was glowing.

Even though she looked beautiful in her natural state, when she was in her pajamas with her hair tussled and that playful grin on her face, she was just so…wow now.

She literally took my breath away.

∞∞

_Dean_

Sharika looked hot, well, hotter then usual. Model hot, but she used to be a model so that shouldn't have been a surprise. Let's just say if I saw her like that at a bar, or somewhere else, I'd be fighting off another hundred and fifty men to get her attention.

While Lauren was distracted by her ex-roommate, and Sam was awestruck (which I could tell he was without even looking at him), I took this chance to stare at Lauren's legs again.

For a short woman, in this dress they seemed to go on forever. She was barefoot – which was strange, but _her_ in a way that nothing else was about what she was wearing.

Even though Lauren looked – wow – and I had to restrain myself, she didn't seem the type to usually wear these sorts of clothes – the way she was pulling at her skirt only added evidence to this.

It was a good thing as well as a shame; I didn't like wearing them, but I had to admit they suited us.

∞∞

_Sharika_

…Why were Sam and Lauren staring at me?

And why was Dean staring so intensely at Lauren's crotch??

I spent so much time on Lauren that I had to get ready in literally five minutes. The make up, dress, hair and shoes. And by the looks of things, I obviously needed more time…

I suppressed my urge to sigh.

"Remember, I'm going to be different tonight," I reminded them.

Lauren stared at me in a kind of fascination, Sam looked at me…some way I can't describe, Dean lifted his gaze from Lauren's…area to me.

"I'm only going to be like this because if I'm not like this then they'll be bitches to us and force me to be like this and therefore it'll just be easier for me to be like this without using it as a last resort. And I just slip into this role whenever I'm near them so I'd have been like this anyways and I'm just sorry in advance for being like this…" I trailed off. They just wouldn't be able to understand, I doubt they know how anxious I'm feeling.

Sam was still staring at me, but I could make out confusion in his face, not that I blame him.

Lauren was giving me her 'I'm listening to you' look; she only ever uses it when she isn't listening to you. Dean had on the same expression as Lauren.

"You'll see tonight," I added.

"Okies then, well I'm off," Lauren said. She stood up, and put on sandals.

"Lauren," I said, trying not to be irritated. "Wear the shoes that I bought for you."

"No Shar," Lauren argued. I refrained from gritting my teeth; does she _not_ understand a _simple request_? "Me in high heels? As if." She headed towards the door.

In a few strides I walked around her and blocked her exit. I hated it when she acted like this, well not really. It's just that I'm under a lot of stress tonight and she wasn't co-operating. "Lauren, _wear_ the shoes I got you."

"Don't be such a bossy bitch!" Lauren said simply, and rolled her eyes.

This is too much! She is acting like a child! The corners of my lips went down and my eyes narrowed. I gave her the 'scowl' stage one. There five stages in the 'scowl'. Us models learnt about it through experience.

∞∞

_Lauren_

My eyes widened.

Do you know the perfect scorn that seems to just hang around models as they look on us lesser beings? The look that makes you want to crawl in the deepest, darkest hole you can find and die?

_My best friend_ was giving me that look.

"Yeah…stop that." It was majorly freaky. Like 'AHH!!! RUN AND HIDE FROM SHARIKA!!!'

"Put…the shoes…on."

I sighed. There was no reasoning with people like this. I sat on the ground, and grabbed the shoebox on the coffee table. Ripping the tissue paper I saw the shoes for the second time that day.

The heels weren't really…that…high… WHO AM I KIDDING!?! I WAS GOING TO HAVE SO MANY BRUISES TOMORROW MORNING THAT I'LL BE DECLARED A NEW SPECIES!!!!

They were green, strappy sandals; the ends would tie up around my knees, giving it a kind of ballerina effect. The heels were two inches high.

I slipped them on, tying up the ends with a bored air. The fact was I had no idea how I was going to stand up in these things. Help…?

I gestured to Dean. "Get over here!" He did so. I got up on my knees, then grabbed him around the waist.

"What the –"

"Stand still!!" And I stood up. (I personally think I did a beautiful impersonation of a baby giraffe just starting to stand on its legs…or…well, I don't have another comparison. It just looked really bad.)

"Are you right there?" Dean asked with an amused look as I finally stood straight.

"Fine," I said, and took a wobbling step towards the door. Sharika sighed, and turned around perfectly on her three and a half inch high heels, and strode out the door. She managed to give the impression of flicking her hair back, even though it was in a bun.

_The things you learn when you go away_, I though to myself, and took another couple of steps, until I was finally out of the door.

"We're taking my car," Sharika said imperiously, having obviously slipped into her mega-bitch role already.

"Okay!!" I said, in my most bubbly voice. _Feel the chipper_…

∞∞

_Dean_

Sharika was being overbearing, Lauren over-the-top, and Sam overwhelmed.

I sat quietly in the back next to him, listening to Sharika's CD, and Lauren's singing, and tried to prepare myself for tonight.

Gun in waistband, check. Knife in ankle sheath, check. Knife in arm sheath, check. Holy water in inside suit pocket, check.

Sam was similarly kitted out – the girls, well, I didn't think Lauren would be able to hide anything in a dress that snug, and Sharika didn't seem like the type to haul weaponry. But she would be able to conceal some, the way her dress hung made for some sweet hiding spots.

Not that she'd need them, which I kept forgetting. She _seemed_ so normal.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder at me. "Stop worrying okay? It's making me even more nervous. And no, I don't have any weapons."

It was uncanny, the way she kept doing that. I'd have to learn to conceal my emotions from her somehow.

"Yeah, well don't worry, _I'll_ protect you," I said, just to get a reaction.

"How kind!" she squealed, then flashed me a wide smile that showed all of her white, even teeth. She spun around to face the front again.

I waited.

"Ugh!! That was horrible! Are you trying to tell me that there are people who act like this all the time where we're going? If so, I'm getting out right now!" (All this was aimed at Sharika.)

"Lauren, don't be ridiculous. We're already here."

Sharika parked, and we all jumped out of the car. Sharika and Sam automatically moved towards each other, while Lauren simply stood there, trying to get used to her high heels again.

"Now," Sharika said. "You – you're supposed to be like…you know, and I'll be like this, and just waiting, and Dean, just stand around smiling and you know, and Lauren, you know –"

What was Sharika on about?

Lauren sighed. "I'll explain for you. Sam, you're only tolerating Sharika until something better comes along. Dean, you smile and flirt with everything in a skirt. I – be chipper!!" She grinned. "Now onwards, comrades! Into the fire!" She strode towards 49 Prescott Street; it was a very large, beautiful house, with lights shining from every window, and music blaring out into the street. Cars were continuously arriving and leaving.

We all caught up with her, and headed 'into the fire' together; Sam and his fiancé arm in arm, and Lauren and I on either side of them. We walked into the house through the double doors, and found ourselves in an entrance hall about twice the size as our whole motel room.

"_Sharika!?!_" an incredulous voice shouted from across the room. A tall, lean guy with an ascot started striding towards us. "_I don't believe it! How are you, how are you?!_"

_This must be the male version of the 'chipper'_, I thought to myself as Sharika walked towards him, met him half-way and they air-kissed each other's cheeks.

"Clause, it's been so long! You haven't changed a bit. Love what you've done here, reminds me of the Dome," Sharika replied, and smiled without managing to create any lines on her face.

"You look fabulous, as ever. Love what you've done with your hair Dahling, and this dress – I would have chosen it myself. Did I?" They laughed. And on went the boring conversation of old friends who haven't seen each other in years.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I almost fell asleep, watching Sharika and Santa Clause completely ignore the three of us. How much longer would this go on for anyways?

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you, by now you shoulda somehow realised what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…_"

My phone started vibrating in my tiny handbag, emitting the song Wonderwall by Oasis. I quickly unzipped it, blushing as people close enough to hear my ring tone looked me over with varying stages of 'the scorn'. I suppose it wasn't one of the 'in' songs. "Hello?" I asked breathlessly, flipping the top open.

"_Hey_," the voice on the other line replied. It was male…and sounded vaguely familiar… "_It's Kyle, from last night_."

"Oh, hey Kyle! I didn't expect to hear from you ever again." I laughed into my phone. This was a welcome distraction.

"_Well, what can I say?_"

"Not much if you don't want to sound like a stalker."

I heard him laugh. Even though I was hardly able to hear him, due to the blues music reverberating all through the house, his laugh was still cute. "_Well then, is asking you out for a coffee date stalker-ish or not_?"

"It's borderline. You want coffee now, or later? If now I'm changing my mobile number; sometime tomorrow, I'll consider it."

"_Definitely tomorrow then. Can I call you again, or would that look desperate?" _

"You'd best call me. I'll forget otherwise. I'm like that."

"_Till tomorrow. Have fun wherever you are – it sounds like a blast."_

"I really hope you're being sarcastic." I smiled as I clicked my phone shut and stuffed it back into my handbag. Finally, I'd be able to get away from the whole foursome (when Sharika and Sam could tear themselves away from each other) and twosome (when they couldn't) pattern we had going here. I needed a break.

"Who is with you?" Clause asked finally, and I looked up.

Dean had left my side, and was standing on the other side of Sam now. He looked kind of pissy. Oops. Was that my fault?

Maybe I should apologise. I didn't want anything to go wrong tonight, I wanted the information and I wanted Fiona and Joyee back and I should probably –

"Yes," Sharika said. "This is my fiancée Sam –" She waved her hand behind her without even looking at us.

"Sam! I hope you're taking good care of our little Sharika!" Clause interrupted, and walked straight up to – _Dean!? _"You two make a fabulous couple, if I do say so myself."

He pulled Dean until he was standing right next to Sharika. He then took a step back, as if he were admiring their couple-y-ness.

∞∞

_Sharika_

Oh crap, I can't correct him! He hates it when people do that, pride and all that. He might even throw us out and that is the last thing we need right now. We _cannot _blow this. This is our only shot at getting them back. Oh crap!

"Thank you," Dean replied.

_What are you doing?_ I asked him mentally, hoping that Lauren would actually ask him for me. I've been practicing making my urges more prominent ever since I found out about her empath powers. So then she would act upon them. It usually worked but it wasn't working now, guess she's just as surprised as I am, if not more.

"I try my best to take care of her," Dean told him, as he looped one arm around my waist and brought me closer to him.

_WHAT THE HELL IS HE THINKING?!?! Now what do I do? Freaking hell Dean! _I mentally sighed. _SORRY SAM! I have to keep up this charade, or we'll lose our only opportunity to figuring out their whereabouts. _I leaned my head against Dean's shoulder. _I'll make it up to you later somehow._

"Keep her out of trouble," Clause half joked, half warned. "Our little firecracker, always getting into mischief..." He grinned merrily at me.

The smile on my face was getting harder and harder to maintain. "I assure you, Clause that I no longer participate in such activities. I've grown up and matured since then. We all have." _At least I hope so. _So I had a rebellious stage when I was in England. Most teens do, what else would you suspect, a fifteen year old girl, far from home living in a dorm with other teenage girls and teenage boys dropping by, and sometimes even staying over, when ever they felt like. A situation like that is obviously going to render the consequences that Clause was now reminiscing of.

"Oh I know that Sharika," Clause said as he turned to me and he tapped me gently on the shoulder. He suddenly gasped. "You must see Lindy again. Oh there she is!"

He motioned for me and Dean – or should I say _Sam_ – to follow him. He turned and headed her way. "Lindy _DAHLING_!"

Dean followed him, and since he was still holding onto me I was forced to do the same.

_Remember what you're here for! This is only a temporary predicament, one that will only last a few hours. At least until you can make something out of 'the blue man'. God, I already want this night to end…_

∞∞

_Sam_

"Thank you," Dean replied.

What had just happened? Why the hell did Dean just do that?

I tried to see Sharika's expression at the unexpected direction this evening was taking. To anyone else who would have passed by she would have looked calm, collected and in control, but I could clearly make out the surprise in her eyes.

I suppressed my growing urge to forcibly push Dean away from _MY_ fiancé. I am going to _kill _that jerk. He was only doing it to piss Lauren off, and taking revenge on me for saying that he liked her when we went shopping.

As long as he doesn't do anything…_untoward_ to her, he'll leave the night with no bruises, maybe just a scratch or two.

"I try my best to take care of her," Dean said. And then he made a movement that would inevitably lead to him waking up with two black eyes, courtesy of me. He placed his arm around her waist.

_You're a dead man dean, you hear me, DEAD!_

"I assure you, Clause that I no longer participate in such activities. I've grown up since then. We all have." I heard Shar say, she had already placed her head on Dean's shoulders, something she could now achieve due to her shoes.

"Oh I know that Sharika."

_Calm down, he is only putting his arm around her waist, nothing to fume over. He doesn't even mean anything about it. He likes Lauren, even though he is in complete denial about it, hmm…I wonder if I hang around Lauren enough she'll draw on Dean's face with a permanent marker, or put his hand in warm water…_

"Lindy _DAHLING_!"

I looked up to see Clause leading my brother and _MY_ fiancé to the other side of the room.

_This is going to be a _long _night…_

∞∞

_Dean_

"What are you doing?" Sharika hissed from the corner of her mouth. She smiled at a group who were waving at her from across the room.

They turned around and began to whisper amongst themselves excitedly.

How can I answer that question without sounding immature? I have a _feeling_ that if I upset her tonight she'll make things difficult for me. She could probably send all these 'chippers' after me, I'll never have a peaceful moment. It's bad enough with Lauren.

Although I found it strange how everyone just stopped and stared in awe at Sharika. I didn't think they did that because she looked stunning tonight, it had to be something else. They looked almost as if they were intimidated by her.

I did get the impression that Sharika did do some wild things in the Dime, or whatever it was called. She seems like such a goody-goody then she turns around and dances like that. It was surprising to say that least.

_Well if you saw someone this hot walking around wouldn't you feel intimidated? _A voice at the back of my head piped up.

No, I'd hit on her and have sex with her, and I already did. Hit on her I mean, I'll leave the sex with Sharika to Sam.

"He seems like the type that gets pissed at people who correct him," I answered, taking a shot.

"That's true." She sighed, then gave me a look out of the corner of her eye. "We'll have to make up stories about how we met and got engaged and stuff now. And try to make it romantic, not like that 'Don't be shy baby, you know you want to' crap you said to Lauren, or otherwise they'll –"

"Sharika, dahling!!"

∞∞

_Lauren_

Why the sudden urges to draw on certain peoples faces? I mean, I know I'm strange…but that strange?

It was a shock, to me at least.

I shrugged off the feeling, and suddenly a waiter appeared at my side. He offered me his tray, which was full of different glasses, and different colored beverages. I smiled and reached for a glass, which was filled with a dark purple liquid. Then I thought better of it. DEMON, HELLO LAUREN!! NEED TO STAY SOBER – well, as sober as you ever are, with Sharika and '_Sam_' being all couple like.

"Is this Ribena?" I asked the waiter.

_Flashback_

"_Here," Sharika said as she passed us all our drinks. "Wine, just like you ordered."_

"_Cheers," we all shouted, and I took a small swallow. It tasted nice, but somehow familiar. I shrugged, and looked up. Sharika was sitting forwards, watching us all like a hawk. I stared back, then smiled nervously and said, "Um…it's good?"_

_She grinned and sat back, taking a drink of her own glass. "Sharika!" someone yelled from behind her. I looked for the source of the voice, and realized it was Jason. _

"_Be right back," Shar said, and I grinned to myself. This was perfect. I knew they liked each other, I knew it!!_

_Sharika got up and walked over to Jason. My eyes followed her. When she got to where he was leaning comfortably against the wall with his shoulder, she stood next to him, one foot and her back resting against the wall as she smiled up at him. _

_Ooh…flirty. I sipped at the wine again._

_Tonight is going to be fun. And if I…happen…to do anything unconventional, I can just blame it on the drink in my hands._

_I leaned forwards, and in hushed whispers told Joyee and Fiona the plan._

…

"_Oh my god, I loved that wine. I don't even have a headache or anything!" I told the room. _

_Joyee and Fiona nodded happily._

"_Baby GIRL! You gone loco last night!" a collage classmate hollered at me from across the room. I looked up and grinned at him when he walked over to me, slung an arm around my shoulders and kissed my neck. I responded with a kiss to his cheek. I admit, I did go a little crazy last night. But it was all the alcohol!_

_I looked over to Sharika, who was peering curiously at us over the newspaper she was reading. Once her eyes met mine she quickly averted her gaze back onto the newspaper._

"_Sharika…?"I asked warningly. She was acting a little suspicious. By a little, I mean extraordinarily so. Fiona and Joyee noticed, and looked over at her. "What did you do to our wine?"_

"_I didn't touch your wine!" she protested. _

_Joyee and Fiona switched their gaze to me. I narrowed my eyes at Shar. "Yeah…she's telling the truth. But she's hiding something."_

"_Babe, I dunno _how _you do that shit," Gary said, shaking his head so his long hair tickled my cheek, and Sharika shrunk even lower behind her newspaper._

"_It wasn't wine," Sharika said so I could barely hear her. "It was Ribena."_

_End of Flashback._

The waiter grinned at me, and winked. "Sure."

"Cool," I said, switching on the bubbly, and grabbing the glass. I swallowed it all in one gulp as he watched me, that grin on his face. I put it back on his tray.

He offered it to me again, saying, "Hard day?"

"You've no idea," I muttered, gave him the hyper-active grin I was famous for, seized another glass of Ribena and wandered away.

_Socialize_… I reminded myself. _Look for demon_. And then I saw Sharika and Dean. They were holding each other's waists, laughing and talking to people. Shar was leaning into him, him down to her; no one would ever realize they weren't in love.

I threw back the rest of my drink, and another waiter appeared, offering me yet another glass.

I took it, after all, the guy had said it was only Ribena, and I needed the distraction.

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AN: Ah, they're all crazy. Thanks for the reviews!! We had loads of fun writing – we hope you have just as much reading!! Reviews are love!


	10. Cool, Calm, Collected And In Control

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Cool, Calm, Collected And In Control**

_So all the memories fade  
And the days go by  
Forget the lonely yesterdays in mind  
I know it's never gonna be the way you like  
I know you don't wanna think about the endlessness you find  
You wait forever blind_

Days Go By – Lifehouse

_Sharika_

I have been in this hell for three and a half hours, talking to these air headed people, _for_ _three and a half hours_. Let's just say listening to them talk about how large certain areas of them have grown – when they are actually twigs – does not inspire any sort of affection.

I mean, I didn't even get to see my fiancé all night. I missed him. Which was an odd thing, he was in the same room as me and I missed him. Is that normal?

I could be with him _right now_ if I could find that blue man.

WHERE THE HELL IS THE BLUE MAN?!!!!!!! I HATE THIS, I HATE IT, HATE IT, HATE IT!! I, of course, hid these feelings of resentment from everyone. I really didn't like being here, _at all_. No one, I repeat, no one seems to understand this. And…and it brought up bitter sweet memories of the past. Memories I had forced myself to forget.

Concentrate! We need to get this guy, we _can not_ blow this! Don't screw up the one chance you have because you're feeling sad, irritated, tired and reverent. _Control yourself!_ I had to be mega-bitch, cool, calm, collected and in control.

"Isn't that right honey?" Dean asked me.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, totally." _Cool, calm, collected and in control._

I had no clue to what he was talking about. I'd stopped listening a while ago. I think he might have been telling them how 'we hooked up'. Everyone we've talked to asked us only two questions, 'Like, how did you two guys meet?' and then followed it up with 'Oh, how sweet, like, how did he propose to you?'

I wanted to throttle them. They were absolute cows to me when I worked at the Dome, and here they were, acting like we were long lost friends or something. It irritated the hell out of me.

And I didn't want to tell anyone about Sam's nude proposal; it was private and extremely personal. Dean, luckily, came up with two scenarios that I wouldn't have even thought of. He could actually think tonight, which was an extremely good thing. All my brain cells were being sucked out by these _models_. Thus the reason I kept overusing the word extremely tonight. And, I have to admit, the scenarios he came up with were quite good. Really romantic, I hope that this is something that runs in the family.

I suppressed my many, many, many urges to sigh, also the fact that I was I was impressed and even slightly amazed by Dean's improvisational skills.

_Wonder how many times he had to do that…_

I've spent the past three and a half hours stuck to his side, pretending to be his loving bride-to-be. Not that I would have minded in any other situation, (I mean spending time with him, not faking to be his fiancé). This wasn't a particularly hard task, considering I was actually a 'bride to be'. But it would just have been easier with my real fiancé, not a substitute, who, by the way, was only keeping up this act to annoy Lauren. And by the looks of things he was successful.

She was sitting at the bar, now on her god-knows-how-many glass of liquor. Staring at the wall in front of her, impervious to the flirtatious glances the males at the bar sent her way.

One positive point though, Dean and I've actually become closer. He feels like a big brother to me now – what a funny way to forge a relationship. He was sweet underneath this macho image he was successfully creating; it was obvious once you spent a bit of time in his company. Anyone could see that, except for those sometimes over-analytical and overly cynical people who were now sitting drunk at the bar.

He was extremely protective and had a deep concern for everyone he loves. Especially his father and Sam, well clearly, they were the only family he actually had, and he knew that. A family that one day I'll join…

I hope that he thinks of me as a sister now, well not right now seeing how he's 'reliving' our 'first date'. At least part of their family and not as an intruder interfering with his life…

The Winchester clan. _You're making them sound like the Brady Bunch._ I thought to myself. I knew they were nowhere near the perfection of the Brady Bunch, but they loved each other. That's all that counts.

_Sharika Mesba Winchester…that doesn't sound right. Sharika Winchester Mesba, no that sounds even worse, Sharika Winchester…Nothing goes with my crappy name! Why did my parents give me such a stupid name? Honestly, Sharika Winchester didn't sound _that _bad. But if anyone were to pronounce my first name properly then it would sound weird._

For some reason people enunciate my name as Sh-er-rika, instead of Sh-ah-rika. Well not everyone, just people in America, Australia and England. Others, who have the same heritage as me says my name right. It's just the accent, I guess.

_Sh-er-rika Winchester sounds the best, and that's not even how you pronounce my name. This is one of the major drawbacks of having an _unique_ name. I'm going to be nice to my kids and give them good names, not weird ones such as Sharika, or, god forbid, Nainita! (That's my Bengali name, Nainy for short. Only my father calls me that.) What would I name them? I've always loved Samantha, so I'll name my daughter that. What about my son? Darren? Damon? It's too close to the word demon though…Darrel? Daniel? I'd like my son's name to start with a D, always have…Damien?_

"I looked across the room, and there she was, curled up in a couch reading a book," Dean paused, almost as if he were gathering his thoughts. "And instantly, there was this spark that ignited within me…"

I occasionally tune in and tune out of the conversation, so I wouldn't be at a loss of what to say when people ask me questions.

_Where's Sam? I haven't seen him since Clause mistook Dean for Sam…_

I craned my neck and searched the room with my eyes.

He was supposed to be looking for the blue man, seeing how Dean and I were preoccupied with this charade and Lauren was getting drunk at the bar. Did she even know she was drinking wine? Or did she think it was Ribena…no, she had had to have known its wine, there was not a person in this world that was thickheaded and gullible enough to believe wine was Ribena. It would just be way beyond the absurd amount of stupidity at least one third of the models here possessed.

"She told me that the name of the protagonist of the book she was reading was Sam…" Dean continued with the story.

_Sam_, just his name made me feel happy, and warm. A tingling sensation flowed from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet when I even think about him. You don't want to know what happens when I actually see him.

I always used to laugh when people talked about feeling this way. I thought it was a major exaggeration of what they were truly feeling. If said exaggerations did not exist actors such as Hugh Grant, and novels from companies such as Mills and Boon would never go into business. These 'feelings' and 'emotions' were only created so a profit could be made for a few wealthy individuals. Women, and even men, would read these types of books, watch these movies and then would try to relate the feelings the characters have into the real world and be tremendously disappointed. What else would you expect?

But with Sam, I actually know what they are talking about. My cynicism about love disappeared. I love Sam so much, I wish I was with him alone in the living room, cuddled up and watching a comedy rather then at this _glitzy_ party talking to people I've never wanted to see again. His smile, his laugh, just everything about him made me sure that when I spent the rest of my life with him, that I'd be very happy. And that, in the immortal words of Harry Burns, when you realize when you want to spent the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Look! He was even making me repeat sappy lines off even sappier movies…not that I actually saw the movies. Only heard bits and pieces from Lauren who had watched the movie and then told me all about it, she sometimes watched those movies. I hated them, found them boring.

I smiled to myself, as these emotions that I once ridiculed swept through me, thinking about how lucky I was to have a man such as Sam to –

Flirt with random models…

∞∞

_Sam_

Three and a half hours later and no such luck. I've been searching for this blue man and only caught a man who was wearing a blue tux. And he _definitely_ wasn't the guy we were looking for. That was evident in the way he was stumbling all night, tripping over peoples feet and dropping whatever was in his hand.

I resigned myself to a corner when two women approached me, and I've been talking to them ever since.

"So, what do you do?" Kirsten, or was it Kelly, asked me as she held onto my shoulder.

"I'm a private detective," I answered back. I gave them a charming smile before I took a sip wine. That was the closest I could come to telling the truth. I couldn't tell them I was a lawyer, seeing how I haven't even got my degree. And demon hunting did require a lot of detective work.

"Ooh, sounds fascinating," Ally…Amanda…Alex…commented. She giggled and clutched my other arm, bringing me down slightly. She stood up on her toes, and brought her lips next to my ear. "I've always wondered where detectives draw the line at privacy, I mean, would you ever watch people get undressed?" She whispered, occasionally brushing her lips up against my ear lobes.

My mind reverted back to last year, when I was following Meg around in my car; I thought that she was a demon, or at least working for one. I trailed her until she went up to her apartment. She stripped off her shirt, allowing me a very generous view of herself...which was ruined later on because she was actually possessed, and tried to kill me and Dean – and then there was the woman who caught me watching her and called me a pervert. That was embarrassing…

I lifted my gaze from the floor to across the room at Shar and Dean, and then noticed Sharika staring at me. She quickly turned her head away, and back into the conversation she, or should I say Dean, was having, as soon as our eyes met. What was that for?

"Come on," Alex said once she was on her own two feet again, she didn't let go of my arm. "You're drink is almost gone." She giggled again as she started to lead me to the bar.

I didn't resist, even though I knew they were flirting with me. It was apparent. Not that I particularly minded…

∞∞

_Sharika_

Those two, Julia and Mandy (two of the biggest sluts here), were all over him! Like parasites! What man could resist two beautiful women practically throwing themselves at him? Even if that man was Sam, MY FIANCE! Mandy clutched his arm and brought him down to her level. She whispered something into his ear. He grinned as a dazed look landed on his face momentarily, he then turned slightly red.

_WHAT THE HELL IS SHE TELLING HIM?!?!_

The same thought that I've been having all day flew through my head once again.

_Why does he want to marry me when there are so many beautiful, better women out there? I knew it. I'm not good enough for him. Why? Why would he choose _me_ when he could so easily get a girl like Jessica, or any of these models here? Seeing how the last relationship he had was with that Sara girl I'm not a rebound. Why did he lower himself from women of Sara's standard to me? Sara was gorgeous, not to mention TALL! He didn't have to continuously bend down to kiss her. And when he is like fifty he'll have back problems and it'll be entirely my fault!_

Sam looked up and our eyes met, I panicked and looked away. God, please tell me that he didn't see me glaring at those two bimbos! I looked their way through the corner of my eye.

They were heading in this direction, Mandy walking in front of Sam with too much flounce in her step and Julia attached to his other arm, her head leaning on his shoulders. It was obvious that their intention was getting _my fiancé_ to the bar. Those two parasites wanted to get him drunk I bet, so they could lure him away from me. And why would he stay with _ugly, short me_ when he could have them?

_Do SOMETHING! They'll have to pass by you to get to the bar! NOW MESBA! _My mind yelled at me, now in panic mode. _What do these leeches hate? _I quickly gathered my vast knowledge, well at least all I knew from the past, on these two _people_ and reviewed as fast as I could. They were getting closer and closer to me. _Quick!_

"Excuse me," I said, as I turned away from the group around me and faced Sam with polite disdain (he was now right in front of me.) "I'd like a white wine spritzer please." I turned back, with an air of arrogance surrounding me. _I'm so sorry Sam!_

I could practically feel Sam standing there, his mouth slightly hung open and his eyes burning a hole in my back.

"You heard the lady!" Dean told Sam rudely; when he noticed that Sam hadn't moved. "Stop ogling at _my_ fiancé and step on it."

Sam shot him a look that shouted 'Dude, you are so going to pay for that', and stalked towards the bar. Mandy and Julia, upon hearing me give my order to him, softly emitted a 'Eww, he's a waiter, god _yuck_!' in unison and walked off together in disgust, not so softly discussing about how all men were liars and cheats.

"So, like, how, like, did you propose to her?" Cindy asked Dean, flicking her hair behind her.

"Ah, that is one of my favorite stories," he said, as he adopted a far away gaze into his eyes. "I took her to the planetarium, that's where we had our first date."

He was interrupted with a chorus of 'Aww's' that erupted from the gaggle of models.

"She walked in," he continued, "and I had the room filled with roses, her favorite flower. Then, Frank Sinatra singing The Way You Look Tonight came on the sound system, and the lights came down. And I got down on one knee, offering her my mother's ring and written across the dome in the stars were the words 'Will you marry me?' She couldn't resist me, just as I can't resist her." Dean grinned down at me, and before I knew what was happening, I was dipped over his arm in a dance pose, and was being thoroughly and romantically being kissed by my fiancé's brother.

Well, as much as I was reluctant to, I couldn't just stand there stiffly and not move, the other models would realize something wasn't quite right. I did the one thing I could do in that situation.

I kissed him back.

Just as I closed my eyes and rested my hand on his neck, I was submerged in a sensation that was like none other I've ever felt before, and never wanted to feel again. It started off with a shiver of awareness going up my spine, like someone was walking over my grave. Then I was immersed by a sudden coolness, almost as if I was dunked into a bottomless pit of cold hard water. Then I went numb, not physically but emotionally, yet at the same time felt a hint of happiness and nostalgia. What was going on? It can't be Dean; no way…this feeling was just way too intense.

Dean helped me back to my feet, his face smiling, his eyes cautious. Over his shoulder I saw a figure walking past.

The set of shoulders, the color of his hair, something about him kept my eyes on him. Who was he? I know I know that man, at least I presume it was a man by the length of his hair, I couldn't make out what he was wearing due to Dean's shoulders blocking my path. Who?

∞∞

_Sam_

_Oh, my brother is a dead man. Do you hear me? Dead…_

∞∞

_Lauren_

I felt warm and fuzzy as I looked around the room again. Everything was kind of blurred at the edges, like chalk drawings on the street being rained upon.

Almost four hours of non-stop model company had done this to me. I'd collapsed by the bar a while ago; but the bar tender kept the Ribena coming, so I could stand it for a –

Oh. My. God.

Dean and Sharika – were doing the – they were – the thing…

Kissing. That's the word.

How could they?!

Sharika and Sam, not Sharika and Dean…and yet – I thought – but I –

Furious, and confused, I got to my feet.

OHhhhh… My high heels seemed to have grown an extra four inches since I've been here – when did the ground get so far away? And how did Santa Clause buy that effect, the one where the room was spinning? I suppose it would cost a lot…

I shook my head, and clutched a hand to my temple. Everything was woozy. I should have eaten something here, or before I guess… but I'm not hungry…

I headed outside – fresh air would be good… good… I started to giggle. If you draw the word 'good' out it sounds really funny…

At the French doors leading outside I looked back. Then forwards again. At least outside I wouldn't be able to watch Dean with his tongue down Sharika's throat.

It's all because she's taller than me you know. I knew it would be trouble…

∞∞

_Dean_

I lifted my head from Sharika's and my eyes arrowed straight to where Lauren had been drinking for half the night. I'd staged this whole scene to get a reaction from her; I found it enjoyable, the way she got all uncomfortable, and she rambled on, her face getting pinker and more confused as every second went by. However, my satisfaction was short lived, as I had failed to notice one thing.

She wasn't there.

Mentally I shook my head. This could _not_ be a good thing. She was drunk off her ass, presumably mad, and models that she'd been eyeing like they had the plague all night were in easy reach – as were sharp items of cutlery.

Sharika was looking over my shoulder somewhere, probably wondering if Sam had seen what we'd been doing. As to that – I had no doubt.

I leant in and pretended to nuzzle Sharika's neck. Instead I whispered into her ear, "Lauren's gone. I'll go look for her. You stop Sam from throttling me."

I stepped back a little, and she smiled up at me, pretending in her turn to be flustered. "I'm going to go look for that drink of mine." She waved a hand in front of her face, fanning herself. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" she asked the models, and they chittered as she left the group.

"It is a little stuffy," I said at large. "I'm going to go get some fresh air." Must find Lauren before she can do any permanent damage. I would have gone looking for Sam, and have Sharika look for Lauren; but seeing as how Sam would most likely hold my head under water for ten minutes straight…it was better to let me get what seemed like the less harmful option – not by much, but still…– yeah, I'll get Lauren. Sharika can brave Sammy's sulk.

"Oooh, can I come with?" one of the models, Cindy I think, who'd been eyeing me all night asked me. She turned huge brown eyes on me, her bust seeming to swell beneath the limited constrains of her dress. The look in her eyes alone would have sparked my interest – on any normal day, when I wasn't trying to stop Lauren killing herself, or Cindy. Damn it.

Just another thing to get mad at her about.

I smiled, and declined, heading outside alone.

When I had reached the gardens, I searched the grounds, and saw a green-clad, weaving figure heading towards the fountain.

She was obviously blind drunk.

I ran across the grass to her, and just before I reached her she spun around, arms raised and face set. If she hadn't been swaying from side to side, I'd have thought she was ready for combat.

"It's me!" I said, and raised my hands in a peace gesture.

"You – you! Sharika and –"

It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about. Why was she acting so weird? Was she jealous? It's not like I particularly wanted to kiss her – I mean, it would just be strange. Sharika and me? I knew from the first few minutes after meeting her that we would be wrong for each other. She's one of those organized types, who goes in for the long haul every time they start a relationship. Not my type at all.

I didn't regret kissing Sharika though, as strange (I didn't think she'd kiss like _that, _what has Sammy been teaching her?) as it had been. It made me realize something – that even while I was kissing my brother's fiancé, I was thinking about the crazy woman in front of me, and comparing everybody to her.

"Sharika does kiss really good – and I mean really, _really_ good. But I prefer your kisses –" I thought aloud. She wasn't listening, which was probably a good thing, considering. Taking a step forwards, she swung a fist at me. And missed by a mile.

I caught her as she keeled over, the combination of momentum and wine tripping her up. She ended up in the same position as Sharika had been a couple of minutes ago. It was much more comfortable with Lauren in my arms rather than Sharika – even though she was struggling to get away from me and stand up by herself. She was a perfect fit, almost as if she'd been made to – Sharika was too…skinny, and light, for me at least (She wasn't anorexic looking or anything.) Lauren had the perfect proportions of softness and muscle for my likings.

"Lemme go!" she slurred, pushing at my hands as I steadied her. She stumbled a few steps closer to the fountain, almost running into its side, but turned around just in time. "You –" she managed to get out, and then she held a hand to the side of her head. "Hurts."

"I know –" I tried to sympathize. The amount of alcohol that tiny woman had consumed would give a three hundred pound, hard core alcoholic nightmares.

"No!" she shouted, eyes screwed tightly shut. "Hurts!" and she pressed a hand against her chest. "Don't." She swayed backwards on her feet. "Uh…"

I didn't even act as if I knew what she was talking about. "Look," I told her. "You stay here, and I'll get Sharika and Sam, and we'll go home and you can sleep. Just stay right there."

"Sleep…riiiight…" she said, and gave me a beatific smile. How was I supposed to stay sane when she looked at me like that? My mind drifted, and I imagined her smiling that smile as she – "Staaaay…."

I shook my head and turned around. _This woman_ –

SPLASH

Oh f-

I ended up doing a three sixty, and running over to the fountain, where water had sprayed up.

Lauren was lying beneath the water, not even making an effort to get herself out of it. She was unconscious, curls coming out of that high hair-do to fan about her hair and writhe like tendrils of golden seaweed. Her pale face shined ethereally through the water, and blinking away the sudden comparisons to mermaids, I reached in and made a grab, intending to fish her out. Instead, I lost my footing on some grass, and ended up in the water next to her. Great. Just _great_.

Now my suit was soaked through, and though I'd be more than happy to throw it out, Sam would insist on dry cleaning – why was I thinking about my suit when she's _dying_???

I picked Lauren up around the waist, and towed her out of the fountain. Placing her carefully on the grass, I checked that she was breathing. She was. I heard muffled noises behind me; I presumed it was people passing by trying to get to their cars. Breathing a sigh of relief, I picked her up again, slinging her over my back in a fireman's hold. I was in no mood to be romantic right now.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your view, this put a particular part of her nicely rounded, soft anatomy right next to my face. Probably not the time to notice such things, but I couldn't help myself. Her dress had gone practically see through – and I _was_ a male.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Sam?" I called out in the court yard. I spun around looking for him. "Sam I know you're here."

_Oh crap! What have I done now? This is entirely my fault._

I followed him here after the believable stage kiss, hoping that he wouldn't be too pissed off at me to at least talk. I really wanted to apologize for my behavior; I acted like a complete bitch towards him. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't even want to see me. I deserved it after all.

I did trust him; I know he wouldn't ever cheat on me. He is not that type of man. But, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. This is only my first relationship, people keep forgetting that. This is still all new to me. And even though we're destined to be together, it doesn't prevent normal couple issues to get in between us. I knew something like this would happen.

And then Dean took it too far by kissing me. Why did he do that? Probably to get a reaction out of Lauren, he is in worse denial then I can get into. If he just admitted he liked her, and Lauren did like wise, I wouldn't get into so many idiotic situations.

"Sam!" I yelled, getting desperate. What if he is so mad at me that he breaks off the engagement? He wouldn't do that, would he…? He is…why wouldn't he? He wouldn't want to spend the rest of his life with a mean horrid old lady.

And when he did break up with me what happens? He would obviously go back to his room and Lauren would move back. How do I convince Lauren to do that though? She clearly likes Dean that much is apparent. But she's still in denial about it, so there is a good chance she'll move back in before I even finish asking her. And do I have to give the ring back to him now or later -

"I'm here," his voice answered from behind me.

I winced, but managed to refrain from crying out in surprise, and then turned around to face him. "SAM! I am so sorry; I didn't mean to be a bitch to you when I said 'White wine spritzer please'. It's just that those two pests were around you, and I know their game. They've been doing that since I first met them. I didn't want them to do that to you, and they always get what they want unless someone else interferes. But that doesn't excuse the fact that I was horrible to you. Sam I am really, really sorry! I am so sorry!" I rambled, without taking a breath. My heart pounded in my chest, awaiting his 'I'm sorry Sharika, this just isn't working out' speech.

He started laughing. I looked up at him in confusion. Was he going to mock me before he broke it off? That's just cruel. And so unlike him, at least I though so…

"You talk to much Shar," he commented, before he swooped down and kissed me.

I stood there, shocked for a moment. I didn't expect this reaction. _Stop thinking you dolt! Kiss him back!_

I placed my hands in his head, drawing him more into the kiss, which slowly grew from a simple, chaste kiss into a more passionate one.

"And besides," he added after we ended the kiss. "I wanted to get rid of them. One of them was going on about hair cuts from nineteen ninety eight."

I smiled up at him. "That's just like Julia."

I looked into his eyes, and the feelings that I was experiencing before I caught Julia and Mandy all over him surged through my body once again.

"Sam, I love yo-"

A loud splash interrupted me from finishing my sentence. I looked over to see Dean struggling to fish out a green blob from the water fountain. …Was that Lauren?

"Is that?" I heard Sam ask from behind me.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied.

Hand in hand, we both walked towards to fountain, keeping our minds open, considering that this _was Lauren_, anything could have happened.

Three quarters of the way there we saw Dean fall in himself; he got up after a few moments, picked up Lauren, and deposited her gently on the grass.

"Dean, is she ok?" I wanted to know.

I heard him sigh in relief, he picked her back up, but this time in a fireman's hold.

"Dude?" Sam asked.

We exchanged looks of confusion before returning our focus on Dean, who was now staring at Lauren's butt.

"DEAN!" I cried out. "You can check out her ass tomorrow, as of now we need to get home."

Dean looked at me, guiltily at first, then back at Lauren's ass, and then at me again with his face redder.

"It's not what you think," he blurted. "I…uh-"

"Sure dude, you do realize that you've effectively signed your own death warrant," Sam grinned to show that he was kidding…for the most part.

"Yeah, looking forward to that, can we get to the car already? I'm not particularly enjoying having this woman's ass right next to my face," Dean lied.

"Right," I patronized him.

When will they get it together? Lauren will get over her denial soon enough, but Dean? He'll take at least a few weeks. But I can't really blame him for that; he was spurned by love before. It became clearly apparent when he came up with those scenarios, especially the proposal. Something told me he didn't just make it up on the spot. The proposal was just too sweet and romantic. He'd planned to ask someone like that before. While he was talking, I'd searched through his past to confirm my theory. And I did.

Her name was Cassie; she broke it off with him one or two months before he could ask her. Leaving him with a scar, emotionally of course, this affected his willingness to enter into a relationship that had the potential to grow into something meaningful and –

"Sammy! Check out that one's rack!" Dean interrupted my train of thought. Nudging Sam and pointing to a stick insect with enhanced features (i.e. plastic surgery.)

_Spurned by love, spurned by love_ I thought to myself over and over again.

Sam sent him a face that conveyed 'Dude, my future wife is _right_ here'.

I took out the keys from my purse and handed them to Sam. "Here, get ready. I have to farewell Clause."

He took the keys and the threesome left for the car.

I hurried back into the Manor, smiling and nodding at everyone whom I passed.

"Sharika, leaving so soon?" Clause asked me once I reached him.

"Oh yes, something has come up unexpectedly," I answered. I hugged him and air kissed both his cheeks. 'Thank you Clause, for everything you've done for me." I really meant it, if it hadn't been for my model weeks, I wouldn't be as strong as I am now. And, the Dome, England, they did leave an impression on me. A good one, no matter how many bad events may have occurred.

Memories, pleasant and not so pleasant, arose to the surface at this place, and whether I liked it or not, those were memories I was thankful for. They, those events I mean, did shape me into the person I am today.

"Dahling, it was but my duty." He smiled as he held my hands in his. A pang of sorrow hit my heart. I can't believe it. I'll actually miss him, this place. Funny the way realizations can hit you.

I returned his smile and tenderly squeezed his hands one final time, before turning away and heading back towards the car. Wow, last time here ever, but then again, that's what I presumed the last time. And it _was_ me, who knew what could happen…

"…finally got that bastard behind bars. Damn straight, been stalking us since the Dome…" I heard random tid bits of conversation as I passed along.

I arrived at the car, Sam was in the passenger seat, Dean at the back with Lauren propped up against the door.

I opened the door and went inside the car.

"That didn't take long," Sam commented. He handed me the keys.

"Yeah," I replied breathlessly, feeling ecstatic and slightly nostalgic. I drew my eyes up once again to the large, impressive manor. "Good bye," I whispered.

With a final wistful smile I started the car and drove off.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: What a sappy ending. XD Personally, Dean and Sharika kissing, and Lauren falling into the fountain were MY favorite bits. Peace7 isn't here to comment. (sniggers)

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it, as always. Review!


	11. Lauren, Rescuing Us?

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**Lauren, Rescuing Us? I Wouldn't Hold Much Hope For Our Survival**

_No one knows what it's like  
To feel these feelings  
Like I do, and I blame you!  
No one bites back as hard  
On their anger  
None of my pain and woe  
Can show through_

_But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free_

Behind Blue Eyes – Limp Bizkit

_Lauren_

I blinked, my eyes fluttering in the warm, golden light of morning. Where…?

"Wake up sleepyhead!" a familiar voice yelled, as the door opened. Fiona appeared in my doorway, smiling, Joyee and Sharika just behind her. "You sick or something?"

I simply stared as they got closer. "You…?"

"What?" Joyee asked, as they sat on the bed around me. I stared at their faces. Where…? "You've been asleep for a whole day. I guess that that concert we went to took a lot out of you, huh?"

"Sleeping?"

"Uh, yeah," Sharika said, rolling her eyes.

"But – you were taken by demons! And you were engaged and –"

"See, Sharika? I told you to keep her away from the kegs. Did you listen to me? _No_. And this is the result," Fiona interrupted me, shaking her head at Sharika, a mock condescending look on her face.

"NO!" I shouted. "It wasn't a dream!"

"Lauren, I was engaged. It was obviously a dream," Sharika said, and gave me one of her looks. She put forward her hand and waved it around my face to show me that she did not have an engagement ring on.

"But – but –" I started to cry. "I missed you so much!!" I threw my arms around Joyee and Fiona. "And – and – I thought you were dead and –"

"Jeez. Why don't you attack Sharika?" Joyee complained, her voice muffled, as she was speaking into my shoulder.

"Lauren, let me go!" Fiona said, pushing against me. I shook my head and held them tighter.

"By the way, out of curiosity, who was I engaged to?"

Typical Sharika. I can't believe she stopped herself from asking for _two whole minutes_. I sighed, and let my friends go reluctantly. Scrubbing my face with the back of my hand I said – "Sam Winchester."

"Who?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Is he hot?" Fiona asked. I laughed.

"Oh, yeah. But not as hot as his brother." This was so typical of us…dare I actually believe…?

"His brother?" Joyee's eyebrows raised. "How hot is hot? Lauren, you don't have very sharp taste when it comes to men."

"Gorgeous. But seriously, he was so up himself…"

"What did you do to him?" Joyee asked.

"ME!?!?" I cried out, outraged. "_He_ was the one who stole my bra – and then there was –"

"Enough, enough! I don't want to know!" Fiona interrupted. There was a pause. "He stole your _bra_?" she blurted, not able to contain herself any longer.

"What about Sam?" Sharika wanted to know.

"What about him? You guys bonked on the second day."

"Lauren!" they all shouted, shocked.

"Now you _know_ it had to have been a dream." Fiona stated, once she'd calmed down a little. "_Sharika_? _Sex_?" All three started laughing.

"Well, you did get engaged." I started laughing too. "How else would you have explained Sam it to your dad?"

∞∞

_Sharika_

I glanced in my rear view mirror at Lauren and Dean. Dean was watching Lauren carefully, checking for any signs of trouble or injury; Lauren's cheek was still pressed against the glass, her breathing soft and regular. Unconsciousness had always agreed with her. I stifled a giggle and put my eyes back onto the road out in front of me. How many times had I seen her like this? The number could be anywhere from twenty to one thousand eight hundred and seventy three.

_What a night, and it's not even over yet…_I grinned inwardly, looking forward especially to making up to Sam tonight.

I _have_ been spending way too much time with Lauren; I've now become completely over sexed! Usually she's the one making all the innuendos, saying suggestive things and thinking thoughts such as this. (She would always ask me to slap her, as if the force of a blow to her face would remove those images from her head. I always refused to slap her. So she'd go ask someone else. I don't like to be violent, unless it was towards a demon or that one guy in England…long story. Let's just say I did the world a favor since no one would want a guy like that to reproduce spawn into this world.) I'd usually stare at her in surprise and shock at what she says, and look at me now. It's almost a complete role reversal. Except for the fact that I keep my thoughts secret instead of expressing them to the whole universe such as some Blondie's we all know.

It's only been two days and I've made love to Sam…lets see…first when we confessed our feelings to each other, then in the tub when he proposed and then twice more in bed after the bar thing. And two times this morning. Six times in two days!! That doesn't even include what's going to happen tonight!

_Get rid of these thoughts now! The only result will be you wanting to jump Sam right here right now even more! Keep it in your pants, or panties to be technical, until you get back to your room!_ My conscience scolded me in a loud preachy voice.

I can't believe I'm actually contemplating such things, what was happening to me? Since when did my hormones get the better of me…since when did I get hormones?!

_Ever since this like, majorly cute guy became interested in you, _the teenage model persona I had adopted whilst working at the Dome in me answered. And she was right. I guess Lauren and I were more similar then I had once thought…

"Did anyone see any signs of the 'blue man'?" I asked everyone conscious in the car, trying to dislodge the scenarios from my mind. I avoided looking at Sam, for I knew they would immediately fly back into my head if our eyes met.

"No," Dean and Sam answered in unison.

"Well, the band playing at the party were playing blues songs, maybe we're after them?" I suggested. I tried not to sound disappointed, we all tried, at least Sam, Dean and I, tried our best to figure it out. The Blonde One was getting intoxicated at the bar. So much for '_risking life and limb for our friends._' Having somewhat of a lead or clue is better then nothing at all. "I think their name was Youth Crew. We need to ask Lauren what she felt when she wakes up."

"If she ever wakes up," I heard Dean mumble under his breath.

"Maybe it's someone who works with the band?" Sam though out aloud. "Like their composer or -"

Suddenly Lauren breathed in and out sharply – what was wrong – was she – "How else would you have explained Sam to your dad?" she asked the car. She instantly started to snore softly again.

It took a few seconds for me to register her words. _Sam…Baba…!!! OH CRAP!!!!_

I found myself clutching desperately at the wheel as I quickly braked the car and jerked it to a stop on the side of the road. I faintly heard a _'Damn'_ from behind and a soft moan from Sam as they suddenly jolted forwards in their seats.

All I cared for now was that one thought that completely invaded and conquered my mind.

"_How AM I going to explain Sam to Baba_?!" I asked myself, horrified at the very thought. I can't believe I've never even thought about it up until now. And I'm supposed to be the practical one, pragmatic one! _Your parents equal extremely traditional, Sam equals a white Christian. You equal had premarital sex with said white Christian. Premarital sex with white Christian plus extremely traditional family equals massive explosion. _

"Sharika?" Sam said softly, looking at me as if he were examining me, as a doctor does. "Are you okay?"

I nodded numbly. I could not speak due to the shock.

I swerved the car back onto the road and stared out blankly ahead.

_How _am_ I going to explain Sam?_

∞∞

_Lauren_

"Thankfully, I don't have to worry about that. And probably never will," Sharika said, after we'd all calmed down a little. "Can you imagine though? My dad would have chased him out of the house with a broom."

I rolled my eyes. "You and your broom fetish."

"I don't have a broom fetish," Sharika cried out in indignation. "Only a brown hair one…"

"Yes Sharika, we all know about your love of brown hair," I said, rolling my eyes.

"And tall guys," she added.

"Tall guys with brown hair," I parroted.

"Tell us about your dream," Fiona said, and smiled at me, her huge, light green, wise eyes studying me with care. Fi had always been very intuitive about how I was feeling – almost as though she were an empath herself. She never got others urges though.

I considered forever corrupting their minds with what had happened in the dream – then thought better of it. It could wait later, so I could shock them fully. It's me. This is what I do.

"Yes, tell us!" Joyee exclaimed. Her usual energy and enthusiasm lighting up her warm brown eyes and making me change my mind. A woman's prerogative you know. Joyee can always change my mind on such things.

"Well… we all met at a bar. Dean – that's Sam's brother, super cute – tried to hit on Sharika. Sharika failed to notice this, as usual, and –"

"A guy, let alone a super cute guy, was hitting on me? That proves that it was just a dream Lauren." (Sharika, who else?) And what else would it be, if not a dream?

"Like its anything _new_," I answered, and rolled my eyes. "Anyways, he turned his attention to me after he realized that Shar wasn't his type at all. Shar and Sam went off to get cozy – okay, okay, to get drinks," I qualified, as they gave me cynical looks. I would _try_ to keep the story truthful…but it _is_ a narrator's privilege to embellish the facts. "And I gave Dean my blank face."

"Not the blank face Lauren!" Joyee interrupted, giggling. Soon Fi and Shar followed, probably thinking about how often I did it, and some of the consequences of using it. I joined in.

"Yeah…he was so…ugh. Then Sam and Shar came back, just as I punched Dean in the face. He was being really –"

"In the face!?!"

∞∞

_Sam_

I looked over Sharika worriedly, why was she acting so strangely? She had this abrupt reaction after Lauren muttered that one line.

I glanced back to exchange looks of curiosity with Dean, only to find out that he was preoccupied with his own issues at this moment.

I reverted my gaze back to Sharika; she was still looking vacantly out in front of her.

What did Lauren mean by 'How else would you have explained Sam to your dad?' Sharika told me a lot about her father when I had first met her, not that much about her mother though, which I found odd… She later explained that she and her mother were not close at all and specified the reasons for it. They were understandable; however she and her father shared an amazing bond. It was clear from the way she spoke about him.

But back to the point, he came off as a pretty accepting guy when it concerned Shar. He let her do pretty much whatever she wanted within reason, as long as she didn't harm herself or it didn't affect her studies and/or health.

She had also said something about not only her parents, but her whole family being '_fully traditional'_, as quoted by Sharika.

_Ask her later on,_ my mind suggested.

That much was apparent, it's not like I could break her out of this lifeless trance right now. And I couldn't really ask her this in front of Dean; it seemed like a personal thing.

I leant forward so I could turn on the CD player.

The soothing tones of whatever band was playing on this CD filled the car, hopefully relieving some of the tension held up in the atmosphere by Sharika.

Slowly her shoulders slumped down in relaxation, and her face became more lifelike then before.

The song playing ended and another song came on after it.

"_There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea, you became the light on the dark side of me. Love remained a drug that's high enough a pill. But did you know that when it snows, my eyes become large and the light that you've shone can be seen_." Seal sang.

"My favorite song," Sharika said automatically, almost as if she was set to say that.

"I know," I replied.

I knew so much about her, and I only met her three days ago. I loved her, it wasn't just passion. It was true love. I knew that it was going to last throughout our lives together. The feelings we shared, was all the evidence we needed for that. But the premonitions showing it to be true didn't hurt.

I could _talk_ to her, I couldn't even talk to Dean like that. I mean, I told her so much about my life, stuff that even Jessica didn't know, and it all came out so easily when I was with her. I didn't have any secrets from her. I couldn't, she just made me feel so much better. I couldn't believe my luck.

I thought back to what I had with Jessica, I did love her, immensely. But there was something always hanging over us, I don't know if she felt it but I did. That something was the fear of her finding out about my family, what we did – do, and everything else connected to that. Dean even pointed that out just before his car tried to run us over at the bridge. With Sharika I didn't need to worry. Not only did she know and accept my past, she also shared it. Normally Dean and I do what we do and then shut up about it. But it does built up inside. I now realize why Dean told Cassie about our _jobs_. To be able to confide in the woman you love and to have her make you feel better afterwards was a luck that many men did not have.

And then there was Sara. She accepted what I did – do in given time. But she wouldn't be able to understand the bitterness I have towards my powers. Shar could. She is the only other person who has at least remotely been through what I have. Also, she had more powers then me, so she needed to worry more then I did when growing up.

'_I had to be extremely careful as to what I was feeling, I had to control my emotions or I could very well blow up Luna Park_.'

_Looks like I was right Sammy boy_, Dean's annoying voice gloated in my head.

I didn't even bother replying. I just smiled and looked out the window.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"…and then I ate the toast."

"I can't believe you were fighting over _toast_," Fiona butted in on my story. I'd had so many intrusions in my story already that I couldn't get annoyed. I was just so…_happy_ to have them back. Not that they'd ever been gone. Had they? I was still a little confused. The longer I sat here though, the more secure I felt. It must have been a dream. Someone like Dean, kissing me? And me, singing on stage? Ridiculous.

"Can't you? It is _Lauren_ we're talking about."

"Thanks Shar, thanks," I said dryly.

"That's what you get for dragging me out on stage with you."

"It was your –"

"On with the story!" Joyee said, stopping us from having one of our stupid, pointless arguments. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, after that we went shopping, and I got this gorgeous green dress…"

∞∞

_Sharika_

_How? HOW?!?!_ That one word swarmed my mind. I mentally sighed. _Damn you reality!_

"_There used a graying tower alone on the sea, you became the light on the dark side of me_."

The gentle voice of the lead singer of Seal slowly clamed me.

"My favorite song," I said mechanically. It was; I loved it ever since I first heard it.

"I know," I heard Sam reply.

I relaxed even further, my concerns slowly eroding away. _You'll still marry him, and be happy no matter what happens. You saw that in the premonitions._

I frowned, I know that was true. But if everyone got along everything would be much easier.

Another questioned suddenly entered my head. _What about John? Will he like you? What if he hates you? Then what? _And so another stream of thoughts rushed through my head. _Damn you reality._

∞∞

_Lauren_

"That's what happens when you let Lauren drink. A warning for the future."

"Fiona, it was only a dream! And besides, it was all Sharika's fault."

"_MY_ fault!? How was it my fault?! It seems to me like _he_ was the one who wanted to kiss me just to spite you! It's his fault and does this even matter? Sam isn't real! It was only a dream. And it's your fault for dreaming that anyways!"

"It was _so_ your fault," I clarified. "Kissing Dean, your betrothed's brother." I clucked my tongue. "Shame on you. And it was all your fault. Know why? 'Cause I say so."

"It was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was _not_."

"Was _too_."

"Was NOT."

"Was TOO."

"WAS NOT!"

"WAS TOO!"

"WAS _NOT_!"

"WAS _TOO_!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"This is one thing I would _not_ have missed, if had I been kidnapped by a demon," Fiona stage whispered to Joyee. "I would have been grateful."

"Never, ever say that," I said, and stuck my nose up in the air, though my words were entirely serious. I felt a stab in my stomach. If Fiona and Joyee had ever been taken, and it was my fault, I would have put my life on the line to get them back. I would have killed, and sacrificed, and been merciless on the way. If they had been murdered, I'd never have forgiven myself. Ever. "Do you realize how scared I was? I hated myself, that I'd left you two alone. And I had to rescue you, so –"

"Lauren, rescuing us? I wouldn't hold much hope for our survival," Fiona interrupted my tangent wryly.

"Nice," I said, and threw my pillow at her head. She ducked it, but as a consequence, fell of the bed, with one of her squeaky screams that she'd never grown out of. The rest of us laughed, as she got off the floor, trying to act dignified. Poor Fi…

"I love you Fi," I said, and reached for her, but she backed away.

"Nuh uh. I've had enough of that for a whole month."

"Sorry, I just…"

"Lauren, it was a dream. Here, have a tissue." That comment from Sharika, started me off on another laughing fit of course. I'd _conveniently_ forgotten to mention when Dean had –

Dean. Was he really just a dream?

_Good riddance_! one half of my mind shouted in my head. The other side was feeling – what? Elated? Nostalgic? Heartbroken? I was never good at divining my own feelings. Anyone else's, a breeze. Me? Who could tell?

I was usually in denial about something.

∞∞

_Dean_

We'd all gotten accustomed to Lauren's irregular giggling by now, and I was trying not to notice how the wet, green material of her dress clung to her skin everywhere, making thinking straight impossible for me.

The whole situation wasn't helped by the fact that I could die at any moment – I wouldn't trust Sharika to drive a dodgem right now, let alone this thing while the four of us were in it. She was staring ahead at the road as though she was stoned; not the best mindset when you're driving in the middle of the night. I didn't want to die.

And then there was Sam. He obviously had something stuck on his mind too; staring out the window with that half smile on his lips. Whatever it was, I'd probably find out later. If I could be bothered.

Suddenly Lauren lurched forwards, as though she was grabbing for something. This action caused her to rebound off the Sharika's seat in front of her – she then slid down the back of our seat, her head coming to rest in my lap.

As if I didn't already have enough trouble. Now one of my heads was definitely straight – unfortunately, it wasn't the one on my shoulders.

_What the fuck did I do to deserve this?_

I stared at the ceiling of the car, and did something I hadn't done in a long, long time. I prayed.

_God, get this woman off my lap. Make her wake up and stop_ touching_ me so I can _–

Lauren sighed, and her cheek rubbed against my thighs. She shifted restlessly on the seat, then her body turned around, her face now pointed towards me. Her hand slid up my leg, and rested on my knee.

God has a really bad sense of humor, I've noticed.

I decided to take matters into my own hands, before I lost it. Gently, I tried to sit her back up, holding onto her shoulders, and trying to shift away as I pushed at her. This only caused her to moan a little, and move closer. The sound of it made my blood thunder in my ears, and I gulped as a tiny smile appeared on her mouth. I felt her warm breath against my skin, as though my wet suit trousers didn't exist.

_Damn you, Lauren._ Why couldn't you be awake and trying to annoy me? Anything was preferable to this.

_Anything_.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I was suddenly hit by the most feverish desire that I've felt in years. It spread all over my body in waves, tingling from my toes to the tips of my ears, and I felt a flush spread along the same pathway. My whole body shook within it.

_Holy_ –

"Which one of you is feeling that?" I breathed, trying not to groan. In, out, in, out, oh _god_ – even trying to rationalize my _breathing_ is turning me on. _In, out?! _

"Feeling what?" Joyee asked, and they started to grow fuzzy at the edges. No –

"Feeling – uhnn…" I moaned, and clutched my stomach. "That…"

"We're not feeling anyth…"

"No!!" I screamed and grabbed at them – but they were fading, fading…"Come back!" My hand passed through Fiona's arm, and they all still looked at me with calm, understanding expressions on each of their precious faces. "Don't leave me again…" But they were growing darker, and the world was evaporating. The loss hit me all over again. It was –

And they smiled.

I watched them hungrily. Please…please….I'll do anything –

But they were gone. And all around me was black.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I'll have to ask Sam what the chances are that John will like me but I know there is NO CHANCE AT ALL THAT BABA (That's what I call my father, it's a Bengali term.) WILL LIKE SAM!!!

He'll probably chase Sam out of the house with a broom, and if he can't find a broom he'll get a cheap substitute, most likely a mop. Or maybe even a wooden spoon. He's actually done something similar before.

_Please god, let my father just be happy for me. Let him accept Sam into my life and give us his blessings, _I prayed.

There's something frightening about an enraged father to boyfriends everywhere. I've learnt that from all my friends. And now I will get to actually see and experience it. Not looking forward to it though.

_There is still quite awhile before you need to think about this. First focus on the task at hand then start thinking about normal life again,_ I resolved. In other words I let the problem go since I could not come up with a solution. As if that'll ever work for me. It'll creep into my head at the worst possible time. I'm an obsesser, that's what I do. _Try to let it go!_ My rational brain said.

_It's so hard to concentrate on this problem when the visual of Sam's muscular body keeps popping up!_ That is the one and only reason why I couldn't obsess over this issue the way I usually do. I was just too…erotically charged.

I drove into the motel car lot and parked the car just where it had been a few hours ago. No one had claimed this space in the few hours that we've been gone.

_Luck?_

∞∞

_Dean_

I suppose I should have tried again – getting her off me. And I did, though not all that hard (don't _think_ that word) I admit – I didn't want Sam and Sharika to notice – and she wasn't _moving_.

She just stayed there, snuggling against my legs as though they were pillows, and making damn sure I wouldn't sleep a wink all night long.

I could have slept in the lounge room – but what if she had a relapse and died of alcohol poisoning? Sharika would blow me up. And I'd most likely have to pay for the funeral costs, it's not like I don't have enough trouble with money.

Sleeping in the same room as her would be bad enough – sleeping practically in the same bed? _WHY_ had I pushed the damn things together?! I mean I knew that Sam would move out with Sharika really soon so I wasn't surprised when they announced it today. But I assumed that Lauren was going to go rent another room, not haul up with me!

Sharika parked the car, and the three of us got out. I dragged Lauren's unconscious form from the car, and picked her up in the 'romantic' position again. I'd learned my lesson about the fireman's hold.

Sam followed me to my room so he could unlock the door to mine and Lauren's motel room for us. He then smiled and waved before disappearing into his room. Sure, Sammy gets his fiancé to sleep with, and I get this mindless lump of flesh to baby sit. What ever happened to respect for your elders? He could have taken Lauren far, far away from me. That would have been acceptable. And I could then sleep in peace.

Inside the bedroom I debated with myself.

To take her sopping wet clothes off, or leave them on? That is the question.

On one hand, keeping the clothes on her would also allow me to keep my sanity. On the other, she'd probably catch pneumonia, and again that would result in me getting blown up.

And on yet another level, I did _want_ to take her clothes off – a lot. But then, that wouldn't be very smart of me –

_Stop delaying. You and I both know you are not going to leave her in that dress, so hurry up._

I sighed, and undid the zipper in her dress, slipping it down over her legs and trying not to notice anything. Off with the underclothes too – if you can call the thing that. She wasn't even wearing a bra – _stop noticing_!! If she was to wake up now, I'd probably be killed before I could mention the idea of sickness. Think of that and nothing else.

As quickly as I could I shoved her under the blankets, and took off my own clothes. My skin had developed a chill that I hadn't noticed before, the warmth inside me doing a lot to dispel such things. I hoped I wouldn't get sick.

If I did, it would be all her fault.

I got into the other side, and as if by design she turned straight to me and snuggled into my shoulder.

She is _not_ naked – I tried to tell myself, my brain coming up with a sequence of very tempting events. She is _not_ – yes she _is_!! No! God…

I closed my eyes, and tried to will myself to sleep. No need to worry about getting sick, with her breathing on my neck, and parts of her pressing against me; my body was heated up in no time.

If she'd been doing all this when she was completely sober, there would have been a completely different outcome. But I do not take advantage of drunken women. Well…not drunken women who have friends that can literally blow me up, or who were unconscious.

I held onto that thought as she moved and sighed and slept; until eventually I managed to do the same.

∞∞

_Sharika _

I entered the motel room, taking off my shoes and placing them besides the door. It felt good to get out of those ridiculously pointy stilettos. I was alone for a moment, which was probably good. I could use it to collect my thoughts, like I hadn't been able to do for a while now. Lauren and I understood that we each needed time alone on occasion; being with Sam, though now my favorite thing no matter what we were doing, didn't leave much time for self-reflection.

But now that he'd followed Dean so he could open the door, I could.

I took out the clips in my hair, sighing in relief as my hair fell loose, released from its painfully tight hold. Using my powers, I opened the bedroom door and placed the clips in their rightful places, thinking about how easy it all was. How free I felt, just using my powers and not having to worry about people finding out and sending me off to a laboratory to be dissected, like a frog in any given high school science classroom.

I mean, even with Lauren I didn't feel as if I could use my powers to their full extent, however much that was. It made me feel worse about the Fiona and Joyee situation than I already did. Even with all these powers I couldn't stop this from happening. For Christ's sake! I had the power of premonition and I couldn't see that coming! I didn't even need seer abilities to predict that this would have eventually happened. It's just common sense to think of that.

I never told Lauren about these resentments I hold against myself, I needed to be strong. I needed to show her that we could, and that we would face this problem head on, and come out victorious.

But Sam, I could show him my vulnerable side without having to think of the effect it was creating on him. He likewise exposed his vulnerabilities to me. We shared the same issue, both of us having the 'gift' of premonition and neither one of us being able to save the ones we hold closest to our hearts. The only difference is that I still have a chance to hear Fiona's squeaky laughs, Joyee's eccentric mannerisms.

And, since my powers are obviously more aggressive then Lauren's, I felt as if I had inherited the responsibility of taking care of her, making sure that no demon would harm her. It wasn't an obligation, far from it. I would have felt that way with or without these powers. But the fact of the matter is if I was ever to be cornered by demons I could easily fight my way out. Lauren couldn't. With Sam though, he is able to protect me. If I was ever in danger I could count on him, no matter what. He makes me feel completely secure but at the same time totally independent. It was a new feeling for me, a wonderful feeling.

He made me feel all sorts of things that I couldn't describe even if I wanted to. All these new emotions that have never been known to me. That one man brings it out so easily, he does it without even trying. It's amazing, I've never thought that I'd ever feel this way about someone. I love him so much, I hope he knows that.

The door opened and closed behind me, and I turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, smiling his now very familiar smile. I thought about how a week ago, four days even, I didn't even know he existed, and now…now I couldn't imagine my life, or future, without him. He has become such an important figure in my life in such a short amount of time.

In a way it was slightly frightening, as though I was standing before a huge cliff, and I could either learn to fly next to him, or crash and burn at the bottom. In another way, it made me even more secure of us, of our love.

I grinned, levitating up just until I was at eye level with him. "Hi."

"Hi," he greeted back.

Once he reached me he placed his hands on my back as I wrapped my legs around his waist, bringing us closer together. The first contact, as always left me breathless, the immediate heat shooting through my body everywhere we touched.

Our lips met in a fiery kiss, my arms slid around his neck, my hands in his long hair. His hands moved up and down my back until one was one cupping the side of my face and the other on my thigh just above my knee. He started walking towards the bedroom.

He knew his way there with his eyes closed by now, considering how he had done it twice already. (When we came back from the bathtub and after the…chocolate episode.)

"Sam?" I asked breathlessly in between desperate kisses, my head slightly falling back as though it was too heavy for my neck.

His knees hit the edge of the bed. He propelled forwards, falling on top of me, onto the bed. But it was a comfortable weight, not suffocating. I writhed beneath him.

"Mmm?" he replied as he started to nibble my earlobe. Both of us shifted up until my head reached the pillows without breaking contact.

"Do you think – oh!" I whimpered when Sam kissed a sensitive area on my neck. He lingered there for a few moments before moving on.

"Do I think what?" he asked before he resumed kissing my collar bone. His hands stroked my sides, moving slowly upwards.

"Do you think -" was all I could manage to say before Sam covered my mouth with his own.

I felt his hands work their way under my body towards my back and begin to pull down the zipper of my dress.

"Sam, stop!" I pushed him away with as much force as I could. It wasn't much but it did the job.

He lifted himself up, leaning on his hands, in a push up position, giving me a confused look. "What's wrong?"

"Do you think your dad will like me?" I asked him, trying to regulate my breath. I calmed my thoughts as much as I could, and restrained myself from muttering 'Screw it', grabbing him and pulling him back towards me. He looked so cute, his hair all mussed, face flushed, lying practically on top of me still. I ignored my urges, and pushed myself up using the palm of my hands. He drew away from me as I did so, which left me cold without his warmth.

"You're thinking about my dad _now_?" he asked incredulously.

"I've been meaning to ask you since the car…" I trailed off, flushing slightly. The stream of thoughts about Sam had effectively distracted me from my goal for the evening, which was to ask that question. Thank god I didn't meet him while I was doing the HSC…

"Honestly, I don't know," he answered truthfully. "And what happened to you in the car? After Lauren's 'How will you explain Sam to your dad?' thing?"

"Yeah, about that," I paused, gathering my thoughts. "My dad is really traditional. He -"

"You don't think he'll like me," Sam cut me off.

I shook my head. "I know he won't like you." I moved forwards and hugged Sam, leaning my head on his shoulders and balancing my weight evenly on my knees. "But that's not going to stop me from marrying you."

Sam put his chin on top of my head. Placing his hands gently on my back he stroked me slowly, moving his fingers up and down in a rhythmic pattern. "Sharika, whatever happens, the odds and obstacles, we'll face them together. And we know that we're going to get married anyway. So there isn't much point in worrying about it now."

"Still, I'd be easier if everyone got along. It's important to me that my dad likes you. I mean, it's my dad; he raised me since I was born. I, I don't want to have him feel as if I'm defying him. I owe him so much."

"I'll try my best," Sam promised me.

"I know you will," I sighed. "But, he is very -"

"Traditional," Sam finished the sentence for me. "You've told me before."

"He's going to be shocked, and probably -"

"Or he might support you, don't be so pessimistic. Worst come to – wait a minute. You told me that you know nothing of your culture, right?"

"Yeah," I looked up at him, confused as to what he was getting at.

"Our wedding, it was a traditional one, wasn't it?"

"Not quite, it was a mixture," I finally realized. Bubbles of relief and euphoria burst inside me. "But, that means that my dad helped us with the wedding, which means he's going to like you. THANK GOD!"

"And that also means that my dad helped, with the English traditions I mean, which in turn means -"

I interrupted him with yet another fiery kiss. "Do you want me to make it up to you or not Winchester?" I asked playfully, pushing him onto his back and, my…erotically charged mood back in full swing now that my worries about Sam's dad, or Baba, or things like that were fading away. Now I could simply focus my attention on Sam…


	12. It’s The Sad Nature Of Males

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**It's The Sad Nature Of Males**

_When you're kissing someone who's too much like you  
It's like kissing on a mirror  
When you're sleeping with someone who doesn't get you   
You're gonna hate yourself in the morning_

Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis and The Watson Twins

_Lauren_

"Mmm…" I murmured. Wherever I was, it was warm, it was quiet, and I could stay here forever, it was so comfortable.

Then I felt as if I'd been hit in the head with an anvil – ten times. I sat up; heels of my hands pressed against my eyes, and rocked a little. _God_. It hurts to even _think_.

Then _don't_, I told myself.

My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, and my tongue was so dry it could have rivaled sand paper. _Okay_, I thought, trying to make my thoughts quiet so they wouldn't hurt my head even more. (It didn't work.) First, water. Second, shower. Third –

I looked down at myself. The blankets had fallen to my waist, bearing my chest for the whole world to see. HOW DID I GET –

"Uhnn…" I heard someone mutter next to me, and a heavy arm slung itself around my waist, the fingers of its hand curling against my side. I stared at the arm.

It was tanned the perfect color of an arm that spent just the right amount of time inside and outside. It was sprinkled liberally with light blonde hair and beautifully muscled. And it was lying against my naked flesh as though it belonged there.

I closed my eyes, and bit my lips in the worried look I reserved for the strangest of situations I get myself into. _Breathe_, I told myself. _Don't think_.

And I turned and looked down, to see an equally naked Dean sleeping, his face peaceful and –

_OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

I scrambled out of the bed and stared down at myself. I was totally and completely naked. Not that there's a difference really between totally and completely, I should have just said one of them – WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?? From what I could see of Dean, he was in the same condition I was.

I had sex with a guy and I couldn't even remember it!?

I almost screamed, but then the pounding in my head hit me again, and I thought against it.

_Okay, there is a way to check this_, I tried to calm myself.

I hesitantly reached out, and held the corner of the blankets. _Breathe in, breathe out_. I jerked the blankets on my side up and threw them across Dean's body. Feverishly I checked the sheets for any sign of blood. Virginal blood.

But there was nothing.

Okay, that means – WAIT!?!

OH MY GOD, WHAT IF I HADN'T HAD A HYMEN?! I vaguely remembered a friend of mine in high school saying that sometimes women didn't so they didn't bleed, although it hurt equally –

Oh my god, oh my god, I thought to myself, hands against my mouth. I'm not a virgin anymore.

Which wouldn't be so bad, except that I hadn't consented, and – what if I had? What if I agreed while unconscious and he thought I was awake? Did he – did we –

And I couldn't remember any of it. ANY SINGLE THING.

The last thing I remembered was…

…_Sharika, held in a romantic dance position, being kissed by Dean._

So, she'd rejected him, and then he'd pushed himself on me? No, he didn't seem like the type…

BUT I COULDN'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!!! This was supposed to be a time I remembered for the rest of my life, but I didn't even remember the morning after.

MORNING AFTER, OH MY GOD!!! I HAD SEX!!! WITH HIM!!!

Panicking, I stared around the room. I have to do something. What if he wakes up and wants to – in my state I wouldn't be able to defend myself. What can I – and then I spotted my scarf bag. I had so many scarves that I needed a separate bag to hold them all. In this case, it was a good thing.

I walked silently over to it, grabbed four and stood up with a determined expression. One was a creamy, knitted one that I'd made myself. It was very strong, so it would do the trick. Two of them were ones my nana had made me, one was green, the other blue. The last was a purple and silver one that I'd bought the first day I'd come to America. It seemed right to use it somehow. New beginnings versus endings of innocence.

OH MY GOD!!

I strode as quietly as I could over to the bed. It had metal railings at the top and bottom, which was the main reason I'd come up with this idea in the first place. I reached under the blankets, my hand searching for his left foot. When I'd grabbed it, I tied it to the railings with the green scarf, then tied his right foot with the blue one. I left that end of the bed, and went up to the top.

I looked down at his sleeping face, and imagined him – him –

I picked his wrist up and moved it closer to the railings, then commenced tying it up. It would have made boy scouts gape in awe – I was so worried that he'd get loose I applied all my knot-making knowledge to it. I couldn't reach the other side with out going around – and he was making signs of waking up. _QUICKLY_!!! my mind screamed at me. I threw one of my legs over him and climbed up, straddling his waist. Not trying to be discreet now, I tied the scarf around him and the railing as hurriedly and as firmly as I could.

When I looked down he was staring at my chest, his eyes not in the least bit sleepy.

"I knew you liked me," he said, grinning and tried to move his arms. He blinked as he realized his situation, and I smiled at him smugly. Get out of _that_. He simply studied the knots, then looked back up into my face. "So this kind of thing turns you on, huh?"

"NO!" Well…

I scrambled off of him, and threw on the first clothes I found in my bags. I turned back, to see him watching me with a half smile on his face. He wasn't embarrassed at all, but then, why would he be? "What?!" I asked, suddenly angry and the hammers in my head making me feel even nastier. "Didn't see enough last night?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Look," he started. "It's no big deal, okay?"

WHAT?!?!?!? So you debauch virgins _all_ the time?? "We slept together!" I hissed, arms folding around my middle. To say it out loud made it even more –

"So?" he asked. I gaped at him. "I'm sure you've done it with loads of guys."

"I HAVE _NOT_!"

"Look, so what if we slept together? Nothing's changed between us, right? It's not like –"

"We didn't!!" I said, desperate now to deny it all. We couldn't have – I couldn't have – wouldn't have –

"We woke up in the same bed Lauren. Of course we slept together."

Oh, so he thinks I'm a slut, that I'd just throw myself at him like that?!? I'm that easy am I?!? "We _didn't, _okay?!! Just forget it ever happened."

"I'm sorry okay? You are obviously upset so –"

"_Sorry? Upset? _You're _damn right_ you should be sorry, doing _that_ –" MY HEAD DAMNIT!!

"Look, you were cold okay? And all wet. I had to do something –"

"I was not WET!" How could he be so crude??! "Where you would get _that_ idea –"

"Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better." He was sarcastic, almost amused by my discomfiture. How could I have –?

ARRRGH!!!!!!!

"That's it!" I shouted and my head complained even louder. I grabbed a sock from the floor. "Not another word."

"Lauren, we just slept together, okay? It's a natural instinct, no matter who you're with –"

"For you maybe!!" I shoved the sock into his mouth. "Now you won't be saying anything!!"

_Oh god, oh god_, I thought, pacing next to the bed. I lost my virginity to my best friend's fiancé's brother!! This is exactly why I'd been trying to distance myself from him. He had this casual, devil-may-care attitude towards it, while it had been my first time, and now it would be really weird between us whenever we saw each other because we'd have to when Sharika and Sam got us into the same house and –

"Gemef mynn mmmf!" Dean said around the sock. I translated it as 'I am an unfeeling dickhead who debauches innocent virgins, and then is callous enough to not even care what they think.'

"I know," I told him, then resumed pacing.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Your second attempt, any success?" I asked as I entered the kitchen, having just completed my daily morning routine. Sam stood still, hunched over the stove. He was wearing a wrinkled grey shirt and light blue jeans. He was attentively staring at the pan in front of him.

From his stiff posture I could easily tell that he was intently concentrating on the task at hand. I grinned to myself, thinking about how I could just walk up behind him, levitate up just high enough so my mouth could be right next to his ear and then whisper something sudden into it. His reaction would be amusing to watch, to say the least, but then he'd probably - make that definitely - get mad because I would have wrecked his endeavor of making edible pancakes. But then again, I do have persuasive ways to guarantee his forgiveness for such an act. No, better not, it's been awhile since I've seen his accomplished achievement smile. _Hey, that rhymed. _

I jumped on to the stool and leaned forwards, my elbows standing up right on the counter and my head resting on my hands.

There were so many pieces to this puzzle!

I thought back to last night, wondering how the band could be related to the main demon, after all, they were the only clue we had to finding Fiona and Joyee. Maybe they were working for Him? And if they were why would they be a band, they would attract much less attention if they had just appeared as an unrecognizable person rather then a face you could tell that one day you'll see on the cover of a music magazine. (They really were a good band, much better then some of the music you hear these days…) It couldn't be that, but at the same time I shouldn't disregard the possibility of that happening.

The informant only had said '_Look for the blue man_'. Man meaning only one person. Could it be that one of the members in that band was connected to the demon? But that just brings back the question, why would that 'blue man' join a band that would sooner or later hit the big times…or whatever the phrase is? Unless that was exactly what it wanted, to get attention so it could get support or something before it unleashes a ploy it has in mind. Like get a large fan base and somehow brainwash them through its songs?

No, that's just too ambitious, even for a powerful demon. But it has to be connected to the band somehow…

_Shouldn't you be communicating these ideas to the rest of the 'gang'?_

Yes, I will, soon enough, I answered myself.

And what was with that…that _feeling_? It was the most intense and complicated thing I had ever felt in my life. But funnily enough, at the same time it also seemed familiar, the happiness I mean. The nostalgia was no surprise, almost as if I had expected it to follow the hint of happiness. It's like when you meet school friends you were once really close to. But everyone I was close to I had kept in contact with. I regularly sent them emails and in turn received their replies. Sometimes they would even come to visit me.

That had to be connected to that man, I might not believe in fate and destiny but I have a gut feeling that it was connected to him somehow. I'm not the one who usually acts upon my instincts, I rely more on logic and established facts, but one thing that I've realized, concerning the supernatural elements of life, is that everything happens for a reason. But that's not what irked me about him; it's the fact that he, well what I saw of him, seemed so familiar. It almost gave be a sense of security. Where had I seen that man before?

All this in addition to the particularly interesting excerpt of a conversation I overheard. "…_finally got that bastard behind bars. Damn straight, been stalking us since the Dome_…" It is true, while I was working at the Dome there was this man, about thirty or so, who was stalking all the people there. He didn't restrict himself to the female models though, he practically choose everyone to pursue. The Dome made several complaints to the police, since everyone there, including myself, had feared for their safety. Granted the stalker never actually harmed anyone, but he did make several threats in the forms of phone calls, letters, SMS's and writing down the message on the walls of his victims bedrooms in a paint that was very hard to remove. This, naturally, frightened the crap out of people. He had even threatened David. That was the first death threat he sent out. The police's anxiety only grew at this new development. The other threats were basically of rape and ruining reputations, bringing down families and such others in that manner, from the secrets he had discovered about them whilst following them home. I, thank god, never got a threat.

The police tried the best they could but they just couldn't trace the letters, emails, phone calls and the painted messages back to whomever this man was. They couldn't compile any evidence to figure out who this person was. I don't know how, but the only worthwhile bit of information they had collected throughout the whole investigation was that he was male. He was too good in his _field_. The police were left clueless and the victims, along with the potential victims, too scared to sleep in their own beds. However the stalker seemed to vanish after awhile. The veil of terror uplifted and everyone went on with their daily lives, acting as if none of the past events had occurred.

It was good to know that he has been finally taken off the streets and into a penitentiary where he couldn't make anyone else feel that way ever again.

"No chocolate this time," Sam said without looking at me.

My mind broke free of the unpleasant, yet satisfying case of the stalker getting what he deserved, and landed back into the present. The present where my wonderful fiancé was cooking breakfast for me.

_Whatever you did to deserve him, make sure you do it again fifty billion times._

Using a spatula and a big wooden spoon, he intricately picked up the pancake off the pan and onto a plate placed beside the stove.

"You're not experimenting with dangerous chemicals," I pointed out in disbelief, taking in his tense body.

"I…," he took a deep breath as he carefully lifted the plate and began to amble towards me. "…know that."

He slowly lowered the plate, which contained a large stack of pancakes, onto the counter just in front of me.

"There," he stated, once the plate came into contact with the counter top. "Perfect."

I clapped my hands. "Congratulations, you've made pancakes," I said sarcastically.

"Considering the state of the pancakes yesterday," Sam said as he handed me a plate, fork and a butter knife. "This is a huge accomplishment." He smiled proudly at me.

I couldn't help but feel slightly giddy. He's so cute! (Personality wise I mean, the words one would use to describe how he looks physically would be extremely hot/sexy/gorgeous/etc, there are too many adjectives to name)

"You woke up two hours before you usually do just so you could make pancakes which look better then the ones yesterday?" I sent him an incredulous look. "Why couldn't you just make them when you woke up normally?"

"I couldn't 'cause then they'd be in the same condition as yesterday's." He replied, he walked around the counter and sat down in the stool across from mine.

"Why is that?" I questioned him.

"Because," he paused, looking down into my eyes. "Because, yesterday I couldn't pay attention to the pancakes 'cause I was…distracted by you."

I felt my face steadily grow warmer. "Really?" I asked shyly.

He nodded.

_How sweet! _A voice in my head cooed. Now what do I say? I'm not used to being complimented. No one ever says anything nice about me, not that they say horrible things about me…at least in front of me. I have no idea what people say behind my back.

I smiled, holding back my urge to jump up and burry my head in his broad chest.

"I don't know what to say, I'm not used to such flattery," I told him, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

With one finger he lifted my chin so my eyes would meet his. "Say thank you," he suggested, grinning playfully.

"How would I do that?" I replied, catching on to his coy tone.

"Can't say for sure, but I'm sure it would go something like this," he said before he swooped down and kissed me.

I mentally grinned, and hoped that this happiness I felt now would never diminish. My arms were looped around his neck and his hands were holding onto my waist. I then noticed how low he had to bend down to kiss me. It couldn't be comfortable.

I softly pushed his shoulders until there was enough space between our faces to talk.

"Well, as much I'd like to stay like this we can't," I said. "It can't be comfortable for you, having to bend down like that." He opened his mouth, his lips forming a protest. "I suggest a higher altitude," I quickly proposed before he could get even one word out.

He grinned, as he moved forward so his lips were once again connected to mine. He began to pull me up, until I was sitting on the counter.

As the kiss grew more passionate I was pushed further back onto the counter. My back hit the plate of pancakes, as I slid backwards the pancakes were forced to do the same.

_Oh crap! _I thought, as I knew where this would inevitably lead.

I tried to push him away but it was too late. The plate fell off the counter and onto the floor, marking its ruin with a loud and distinguishing crash.

Sam broke off the kiss and looked around wildly for the pancakes. His crestfallen expression told me that he had found the current location of the previously perfect pancakes.

"Are you going to be alright?" I asked, a little anxious at his attitude towards the pancakes. He'd tried so hard and done so well…and now look at them. A mess of broken porcelain, fluff-covered pancakes and his pride splattered all over the floor.

He nodded, still downheartedly gazing at the pancakes.

"Hey, why don't we eat out today?" I suggested.

He ignored me as he stared gloomily at the pancakes. I felt so guilty now…

"Hey," I said once again, I forcibly rotated his head so his eyes met mine. "Let's eat out today. And after that we can do anything you want!" I adopted an annoyingly chipper tone, sounding like an optimistic mother telling her son that he still had a shot at winning the little league soccer game at half time, (or something like that…) even thought the score was fifteen to three in the other teams favor.

He lips twitched reluctantly up in a smile. "You're treating me like a little kid."

"Practice for the future," I said jokingly.

_Has he even given thought to our future? _With that in mind I jumped off the counter, using his arms as leverage. I landed about half a centimeter away from him. I leant in, linking my arms around his waist and sighed. I never wanted to move from this position.

"Speaking about practice…" Sam trailed of, grinning slyly. It was quite obvious that he wanted to recommence our previous activities.

"You know, in two days we've _practiced_ eight times," I informed him as I let go, that thought randomly popping into my head.

"You've counted?" He asked me, giving me an incredulous look.

"No, the thought just popped into my head," I half lied. Well, it was half true; the thought did just then jump into my mind, but during the car ride last night I did sort of recount how many times we did it. But it's not like I was keeping track – that'd just be weird.

He gave me a peculiar look.

"We should go see Lauren and Dean, see how their first night together went," I changed the subject. I wasn't sure what to expect exactly…

"They're fine, I'm guessing that Dean put Lauren in bed and slept on the couch," Sam said. "So we won't need to worry about them, Shar."

"She's my friend, I'm always going to worry about her, that's what I do," I told him, I sat down on the stool across from him. Not that I'd tell him but I was particularly worried about Lauren. Especially considering the state she was in yesterday night. I would trust Dean around her, it wasn't as if I was worried that he'll do anything to her. After Sam had taken my worries away I checked in on Lauren and Dean using my seer powers. They were both asleep. Lauren sprawled hazardously across the bed, and Dean curled up next to her. The sheets were up to their necks and crumpled in such a way that you couldn't tell if they were wearing anything beneath it or not. But knowing Dean, as reckless as he could be he would have put up some kind of barrier between himself and Lauren otherwise there would be no way he would be able to restrain himself. It's the sad nature of males.

Anyways she'd have a killer of a headache today. I'd better put Panadol in my purse now. I, without Sam noticing, zoomed a packet of Panadol from the kitchen into my purse.

"Anyways, knowing Lauren she'll probably have him tied to the bed, using her unlimited supply of scarves, with a sock in his mouth." I joked.

We both laughed, thinking of the image. I doubt it though, even Lauren isn't that crazy.

"Fine, we'll practice later," Sam agreed, most likely that he could read the uneasiness of my face.

He got up and collected his mobile, which was on the coffee table, and his jacket before waiting by the door for me. I gathered my purse and a light jacket after I had picked up the broken plates and spoiled pancakes (crumbs included, thank god that he didn't put on the maple syrup before hand), using my powers of course, and dumping the lot of them into the bin which was situated in the corner of the kitchen. _Got to love telekinesis! _We walked out of the room, remembering to lock the door and hand in hand we strode towards number 29.

"Ready to experience what is behind door number twenty nine?" I asked Sam jokingly. He nodded and opened the door.

We walked in and instantly my mouth dropped. There isn't much that could elicit that reaction from me. But my best friend straddling my future brother-in-law, who was tied up to the bed with scarves and a sock placed in his mouth, and screaming at him at the top of her lungs obviously would.

_What the hell?!_

I closed my eyes and thought back to last night, but from Dean's point of view. Using my powers I followed his every move, he took her clothes off so she wouldn't get a cold, then fell asleep on top of her, morning sun rises, Lauren awakes, freaks out and now this.

_So nothing actually happened last night…_I felt relieved, but at the same time a little disappointed. I mean, they both clearly like each other, they're just in denial. Why won't they go for it anyways? I think I already know the response to my own question.

Lauren probably thought of the consequences of the possibility of her breaking up with Dean. They'd still have to see each other, her being my best friend and Dean being Sam's brother. At least at parties and all that.

I looked up at Sam and gave him a 'don't worry, nothing happened' look. Followed by an 'I was right' expression.

He answered with a 'Well, I don't have your powers now, do I' look before we both returned our gaze back onto the situation at hand.

"Lauren?" I called out.

∞∞

_Lauren_

"– HOW COULD YOU BE SO –"

"Lauren?" a voice asked from behind me, and I spun around with a shriek.

"SHARIKA!!" I screamed, and launched myself off the bed at her. I hid my face in her shoulder. "We – and he – and now – and – oh god my head is going to burst…"

She patted me on the back. "I see. Well, it's no big deal Lauren."

I jerked away from her. "_WHAT_!?"

"I brought panadol. It should help with _all_ your aches and pains." She gave me a meaningful look, then dug around in her handbag as I stared at her. Did she – "Here," she said, and handed me a familiar green and white packet. She'd brought it over from Australia with her.

I took it, giving her my worried look, then went into the kitchen, trying to rationalize as I went. Panadol. Right. It should help right? With all my – oh my god is it supposed to hurt?! I've heard it's supposed to hurt after but then mine doesn't hurt!! Did Sharika's hurt? She can at least tell me what it was like seeing as how she was sober – oh my god… What if there's something wrong with me now? What if he didn't use a condom!?! I didn't see a condom!! But then after sex they're supposed to – WHAT IF I'M PREGNANT!??! OH MY GOD!!! WHAT IF I HAVE HIV OR A STD OR SOMETHING?!!? _Okay, okay, Sharika's here now, she will help m_-

Hit by a sudden brainstorm, I ran back to the bedroom. "Sharika! You have to show me last night! I need to know what happened and –"

Sam had taken the sock out of Dean's mouth.

"Nothing important happened, okay?" Dean said, as Sam started to untie him, laughing all the while.

"To YOU maybe!" I said furiously, and turned to Shar. "Can we look back in time? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please?! Because this is just like the time with Brian in uni, except that we never slept together, even after I was trying to do all these things I knew you would hate because we were in that ginormous fight and we were yeah, so and then there was the whole hymen thing – SHARIKA!! What if I didn't have a hymen? Because there was no blood, which is good but not good and CONDOM!! WHAT ABOUT CONDOMS?!! Because I didn't see one, though that's not surprising because I was asleep during the whole thing which doesn't say much about Dean's abilities, or it does say a lot, except about how I get when I'm drunk not about him so yeah – and there's the whole you know with the head and it hurts but that's not as much as it should hurt right? But I'm not talking about my head anymore I'm talking about the 'you know', did it hurt for you? Oh that doesn't matter right now!! It's girl talk okay! So don't make them – you know – and besides I need you to help me!! I need you to look back in time for me and tell me what happened because what if it did and I'm pregnant?!? WHAT IF I'M PREGNANT!?! My whole life would be ruined because I'd never have an abortion because I don't want to get my stomach cut open ever but besides that its against the Catholic faith and I don't want to get sent to hell but then what if I'm already getting sent to hell for having _'you know what'_ before marriage and having impure thoughts? We're not supposed to have impure thoughts you know!! And I do, all the time, but that's not the point! The point is that – that – that I need you to look back in time and tell me if it did happen or not because when people ask me about my first time I don't want to say, _oh, I lost it to my best friend's fiancé's brother who I didn't even know and I didn't even know I was doing it because I was so drunk you could have had a whole band play next to my ear and I'd never have noticed_!!!! Even though he's saying it happened, but what can I believe? I have no idea! That's why I need you to HELP ME!!"

Yes, I was getting slightly hysterical. Make that highly hysterical. Make that worse than any of my previous bouts of hysteria where I've shouted and ranted and talked super fast in this seriously squeaky voice and Fiona used to tell me to breathe, or she does it super exaggerated and then I tell her to stop breathing but she doesn't and Sharika always says –

"Lauren, calm down! Now explain, slowly."

How did I know she was going to say that? I wonder.

"HOW CAN I!??! Me and Dean – him and I – we _slept_ together!!" I yelled, my voice clogging. No one understood. To me, my virginity was something almost sacred and only mine, something I'd been planning to give away to the love of my life – the person I could see myself being with forever. Or at least a person I loved and trusted. _You trust Dean, don't you?_ My head asked me. _Well, yeah, I did, _I answered._ But I don't love him. And to me, that's important. Besides, just because I trust someone doesn't mean I want to do the nasty with them!_

My head didn't reply.

To have your virginity taken or forced from you was something I could never contend with. Ideally, when I'd given it I had wanted no regrets, no matter the outcome. And now – I couldn't – I couldn't –

Sharika looked me over. I felt a flush spread over my face. I was wearing a huge navy t-shirt that said 'okay, I admit it…its all your FAULT!' written on it, and an pastel orange, green and white striped skirt that came down to my knees. If that isn't bad enough, I was wearing a grey vest over the top of my shirt, and it only came to under my bust. I didn't even want to think about my hair or the make up. Panda eyes would be the least of my troubles.

"So?" she asked me, and cocked her head to the side. "It would have happened sooner or later, right?"

"WRONG!" I yelled, my head throbbing a tune inside my head. If I listened closely I wondered if I would recognize – "I can't believe you all think that I'm that kind of person! I AM NOT!! OKAY!?!"

A look passed between Sharika, Sam and Dean. I could feel their mutual decision to humor me, and it made me even more furious. No one around here ever takes me seriously; never ever ever. "Okay Lauren," Sharika said soothingly. "Then what did happen?"

"I didn't sleep with him," I said firmly.

"Yes, but if you didn't, what did you do all night?"

"I – I – don't remember." I flushed an even darker hue. "But that doesn't automatically mean that –"

"As great as this conversation is, I'm naked. So unless you all want my version of the Full Monty, I'd suggest leaving and closing the door behind you," Dean interrupted. He then looked straight into my eyes and grinned that disarming smile of his.

_Why shouldn't I stay_? a dark side of me suddenly piped up, its quiet voice spinning a web that made me stare back at him. _I've seen it all already, haven't I_?

_NO!!!!_ the more reasonable side of me yelled. _NO I HAVEN'T!!!_

Oh God.

I think my face is roughly the colour of a tomato now. "Well, I certainly don't want to see," I said, and spun around, heading back to the kitchen, panadol, and sanity. _Please_ let sanity return.

Grabbing the packet that I'd left on the bench, I popped two capsules out of the foil and filled a glass with water so I could swallow them. Sharika and Sam looked me over.

"What?" I asked, and turned my head away.

"Look, Lauren, nothing happened okay? I looked back as soon as I came here, and _nothing happened_."

"Huh?" My mind was now blank. For a place that had been just surging with thoughts – ones that covered it like ants on a disturbed anthill, this new development was both strange and pleasing. Mostly pleasing. I mean, who'd want my thoughts? Not me that's for sure. But – could it – had I yet again been obsessing for no reason?

"You and Dean did not have sex, which I deduce is what you've been thinking for the whole morning, and why you tied him to the bed. Right?"

I blinked, and Dean left the bedroom, wearing a pair of loose jeans and a red, plaid shirt. As lumberjack-ish as he looked, he was also undeniably sexy. Not as sexy as when he'd been naked but – wait a second…

"We didn't have sex?"

"You thought we had sex?"

Dean and I asked our respective questions in unison.

"No," Sharika answered mine. "Yes, she did," she told Dean.

"Oh. So, I'm still a virgin?" I asked Shar, just to clarify.

"You're still a virgin?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time. Ok… we all really need to stop saying things all at once. It's getting creepy.

"Yes," Sharika and I responded, also in perfect synchronization. Freaky. This is the point from whereon I keep my trap shut and take my panadol. Okay, keep my trap shut before and after taking panadol, because I can't really eat panadol while my mouth is shut can I? And how weird would I look trying to do so? Not as weird as I must have looked, sitting on top of a trussed up, naked Dean and yelling at the top of my lungs, but still very weird.

Oh God. I'm never going to live that down.

I stuffed the two panadol tablets into my mouth, to halt any words that may have even been thinking of leaving my mouth. I swallowed the tablets, along with some water and hoped it would deter any more questions or 'Lauren, you really are an idiot'-ing.

"Lauren, you really are an idiot," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Do you really think I'd take advantage of a chick as drunk as you were? Even I have standards," Dean said, looking offended. I had the sudden urge to throttle myself from his direction.

Nice. Really. Nice.

I opened my mouth to respond viciously to that remark when a sudden wave of emotion came from Sharika's direction. My eyes flickered towards her, taking in her stiff posture, she was feeling really uncomfortable. And I mean _really _uncomfortable.

Sharika just wanted us all to stop fighting and get along. I wasn't surprised. She was always like that, wanting peace and harmony. Just wanting everyone to be happy and get along.

_Such a simple-minded wish…_

I got a sudden image of myself waving a huge truce flag between us, and bit my lip to stop from giggling.

This is not a good time to be empath-y. I'm hung over, and weak. If any of them have any strong urges, guess who'll be copping it? Me. And I do not feel particularly like pashing Sam, or anything strange like that (AGAIN). I mean, I just accused his brother of practically raping me so…awkward. Oh, and the fact that he was getting married to my best friend.

"Um, let's go out," I said, just to defuse the situation. "I'm starving for some unwholesome American food." Sam's stomach agreed with me (I felt his interest rise sharply – hello, hungry Sasquatch…).

"What about your hang over?" Sam asked.

"Panadol works miracles!" Sharika exclaimed. "Don't bother asking, it's an Aussie girl thing. Anyways, I want to go out too. Due to…unforeseen circumstances, I didn't get anything to eat this morning. Not even chocolate, seeing how we ran out of supply yesterday. And it'll do us good to go outside for a reason other then freak outs, ahem, consoling others, ahem, and the mission. And anyways, I really, really want to go to Alexandra's, this place on Parkers Drive. They'll have everything you'd ever want there. The food is great, and so is the _service_!" Her voice went high pitched when she said service.

You didn't have to be an empath to tell that she was hiding something. She obviously had an ulterior motive to want to go to that place. I was receiving giddy vibes from her. The kind you get when you're about to play a prank.

"Ok," Dean agreed, not catching on to Sharika's voice change. Either that or he didn't care. I vote for option number one, it makes him look like an idiot that way. "Having a screaming woman on top of me has increased my appetite, too. Always does." He got a far away look in his eyes, and I tried not to grab a butter knife and stab him as I received feelings of contentment, heat, and faint nostalgia.

I'll kill him some day.

Okay, no I won't…but I can dream.

∞∞

_Dean_

"We're taking my car today," I stated. As smooth as the girl's ride was, I missed my Impala. And I didn't particularly enjoy riding at the back, or their music. Bring on my cassette tapes versus their cd's any day.

"Ok," Lauren said, and smiled. She was looking a little worse for wear this morning, but that was to be expected. "It's no skin off my nose. 1967 Chevy Impala…it was love at first sight." Her smile widened, and I realised she could still turn me on, wearing those ridiculous clothes, and looking like she'd been run over by a truck three times or more. Just the memory of her sitting on top of me as she tied my wrist to the headboard of the bed –

"Do you guys have any cassette tapes?" Sam asked the girls desperately. He just can't appreciate good music.

"That would be a no. Why? The very words 'cassette tapes'," Lauren answered him, and headed back towards the bedroom. "I'm getting changed, Sharika, keep the boys occupied will you?"

I rolled my eyes and slumped into one of the lounge chairs. "How long do you reckon we'll have to wait?" I asked the lovebirds. "Ten minutes or ten years?"

"I HEARD THAT!!" Lauren yelled from behind the closed bedroom door. What does she have? Ultrasonic hearing or something?

Sam grinned. "As long as she feels necessary, I'm guessing. Time to catch up on my sleep."

"Sam!" Sharika hit Sam playfully on the arm. "Not all women take _that_ long to get dressed. If I remember correctly it only took me five minutes to get ready for the party, make up, jewelry and everything else included. And Lauren can dress quickly when she feels like it."

"Yeah, when she feels like it. This morning she's hung over and pissed. What are the odds she'll be done quickl-"

"You guys ready to leave or what?" Lauren asked, opening the bedroom door. Her face was free of make-up, her hair plaited back from her face, and she was wearing jeans and a flowing sort of green shirt. The change had been completed in under three minutes.

"We were only waiting for you Lauren," Sharika said, and shook her head. "Come on, let's go."

"Can I be in the front?" Lauren asked, like a little kid asking its parent for candy. Her eyes widened and her bottom lip quivered.

Sharika glanced at me and I gave a nod of approval.

"Yes Lauren, you can sit in the front," Sharika responded patiently. "Don't forget your shoes," Sharika reminded Lauren.

The girls gave each other an inscrutable look, then started to giggle.

_Not another insider joke_, I thought to myself, and headed for the door, shaking my head. The other three followed, Sharika and Lauren explaining their amusement to Sam as they went.

"– and she looked down at her feet and said, 'I forgot my shoes'. I always tease her about it."

"How did you manage to forget your shoes?" Sam asked Lauren, and I glanced over my shoulder to see them grin at each other.

"Meh. It's a me thing."

We all hopped into the car, the couple in the back and Lauren next to me in the front, just as she'd wanted. I felt as though it should be awkward between us, because of what had happened this morning, but I still felt completely comfortable around her, like it was a normal day and nothing was out of the ordinary.

Funny really, considering how nothing in my life is ever normal. I know too much about the dark to ever truly believe in anything, to ever think anything was simple.

Not that I'd ever think anything between Lauren and I would be simple.

"Are we going or what?" she piped up next to me, raising her eyebrows. I realised I'd been sitting here motionless for a while now.

"We're going," I said. I turned the key and my baby purred to life.

I heard Lauren sigh with pleasure. "Gorgeous."

"I know," I said and smiled, pulling out of the motel's parking lot. Finally a woman who could appreciate my car. "Where are we heading?"

"Don't ask me, I don't know," Lauren said, and picked up the box of cassette tapes from the floor. "OH MY GOD!!!" she yelled suddenly, almost making me lose control of the car. How is she always so enthusiastic about everything? Not everything is as exciting as she makes out.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Metallica!" Lauren shouted, as she shoved in the tape into the cassette player very enthusiastically. She began bouncing up and down on her seat.

The loud, rocking tunes of _Jump in the Fire _blasted through the speakers.

"I like your taste," Dean commented, looking ahead on the road.

_Obviously, it's your own music Dean! How can they stand this constant screaming? It totally spoils the song. _

"I haven't heard Metallica in forever! It's all because _Sharika_ hates this band!" Lauren complained. She started to sway her head from side to side and moved her arms in a likewise motion.

"I don't hate -" I began to protest, but as usual was interrupted.

"Shut up, music is playing!" Lauren ordered.

I didn't even bother responding, she'd just start screaming the lyrics of the song every time I opened my mouth.

I leant sideways onto Sam, thinking back to the one and only reason I wanted to go to Alexandra's. The Lemonade Guy… Oh, the Lemonade Guy.

As confusing and almost terrifying the first encounter with him had been, it was pretty funny to look back on now. Ok, it was goddamn hilarious. But I told no one of this particular episode of my life, not even Fiona. This made it all the more funny.

His actual name was Johnny Timmons. But I always referred to him as the Lemonade Guy, for reasons which are obvious if you knew what had happened all those months ago.

_Flashback_

"_Jesus this box is heavy!" I complained, as I started dragging a large box by one of its corners, from the U-Haul I rented for today. I was already out of breath and it was only two meters away from the truck. _

_I must have looked so ridiculous doing this! (I was wearing a light green tank top and a plaited dark green skirt that reached my knees, my feet in high heels. My hair was worn in a high pony tail, with my bangs splayed across my forehead. A thick green band was accessorized with my outfit.) I bet I looked like one of those prissy girls, who have never lifted anything heavier then a 750 ml bottle of cream in their lives, vainly trying to, more like struggling to, budge a box that actually looked heavier then they were themselves. You know the type. _

_Why? WHY did I have to move to this house two weeks before Lauren and Fiona and Joyee? What on earth had possessed me to commit such an idiotic act?_

_I had to move all the furniture, and crap, all by myself! And I was ordered by Baba not to hire movers because of the simple fact of there being one of me and about five of them. (Them being five big, strong males.) When I had responded with an eloquent "_SO?!_" he replied "I'm just being safe, an attractive woman, especially a _weak_ attractive woman surrounded by men." I would then say, "I am _not _attractive, why worry?" I continued to fight back. _

_And look what good it has done me! I have to lug this crap to the house and organize and allocate positions to them all. I couldn't even use my powers to move them while I was outside, due to exposure, unpleasant business it all was…_

_I never win those fights, it's unfair. Although I'd never admit it to him, he was right. I _am _weak. I hate reality! It wasn't my fault though; I was never fed anything tasty and nutritious when I was a child. All the food was only tasty, no nutrition. _

_It took awhile, slowly but surely I had moved all _my_ (they no longer belonged to any of my ex-friends as they had not put in any hard work towards the heavy lifting) possessions from the truck into the house. I can now just use my telekinesis to move around all the furniture into their rightful places (in accordance to me), that would be done in a second. And I could just collapse into bed and soundly go to sleep. _

"_Thank god!" I whispered to myself as I looked at the empty van, feeling slightly proud at my feat of relentless hardship and determination against the sadistic amount of space between the house and the truck. I know it seemed like a minor accomplishment to the average person, but it was as big as Mount Everest to me. I did it all by myself, and I didn't even use my powers this time!_

You sound like a little kid_, my mind reprimanded me. _

_I need to call Baba, I suddenly recalled. I shoved my hand down my pocket in search for my mobile phone. It wasn't there. I must have left it in my handbag, which I put in the front with me. But I moved it, to the edge of the U-Haul when I was taking the last box inside. _

_I walked up to the truck, my eyes looking over the edge of it._

It must be inside.

_I leant in, reaching for my purse, which somehow made its way right to the very back. _

"_Need a hand?" I heard someone ask politely behind me._

_I grabbed my purse and turned around. "No thanks, I just put the last box inside." _

"_Oh," the man, the very cute man who owned said voice replied. Most likely at a loss of what to say. _

_He was about six foot, longish dirty blonde hair with a fringe and blue eyes. He had on a red, sports shirt with dark blue Levis and sneakers. _

"_But since you did offer, which was really nice of you, would you like to come in for some lemonade?" I asked him, smiling politely. I twirled my hair, a nervous habit I picked up while I was in England._

_I thought back to just before I left for America, Lauren had _advised_ me to be friendly with the locals, and make some friends so she wouldn't have to go make the effort herself when I could just introduce her to my new friends. She even suggested that I invite them in for lemonade. _

_Well, I might as well follow her advice, what could it hurt? And anyways, this guy was really, really cute. Not that I would stand a chance anyway…_

"_Sure," he grinned, flashing his perfectly even teeth at me. _

_I smiled back. God, his smile was so cute! He had a small dimple on his right cheek. _

"_I'm Johnny, but you can call me John. Nice weather today, isn't it?" he introduced himself, stretching out his hand. _

_I took it and shook it. "Sharika Mesba, and yes, it's pretty good for America."_

"_This is the house sponsored by the universities, I'm guessing that you're attending one of them?' he asked, as we made our way into the house._

"_Yes, I'm going to Berkley," I told him._

"_Are you living by yourself?" he asked me._

_We walked through the doorway; he let me go in first before he closed the door. I thanked him. _

"_No," I answered. "My friends are going to come here in two weeks. The kitchen is right up ahead." I pointed up ahead. _

_We walked to the kitchen, and he sat down at the stools while I was taking out the lemonade, my back facing him. _

"_Why are you here two weeks before them?" he wanted to know. _

_I took out the glasses and carefully poured the lemonade into them. "Well, I finished all my work ahead of time, so I had two free weeks. So I thought that I'd move in here, get a feel of this place and organize all the furniture and stuff my way. It'd be too chaotic with everyone else here. I'm the cleanest and most organized of the bunch, so I figure that I put everything in place and instill the order in them for them to follow. And, this way, I get to have things the way I like them." I turned around, holding the glasses in either one of my hand._

_He was standing there, in the middle of the room, naked. Totally naked… OH…MY…GOD!_

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!" I screamed at him, almost dropping the glasses. I quickly put them on the counter behind me. _

"_You said, would you like to come in for some lemonade?" He said, grinning perversely._

"_Yeah! Lemonade! Not to get naked!"_

"_Whoa, ah!! We're you just gonna give me some lemonade?" a horrified expression spread across his face._

"_Obviously! Cover yourself up!" I ordered him. He started to snatch his clothes off the floor and began to clothe himself. I quickly turned around to give him some sort of privacy, and grabbed the first thing I could lay my hands on to fidget with. I swiped the glass of lemonade from the counter and took tiny sips of it. _

_I am going to KILL LAUREN! She knew, she must have known. I can now vividly remember her sniggering after she told me to offer them lemonade. This is the LAST time I ever listen to her. LAST TIME!_

"_What is wrong with you?!?! When someone asks you in for lemonade, you derive from that polite gesture that they want to have sex?" I finished the lemonade, almost slammed the glass on the counter, and turned around to face him, knowing that he is fully clothed. _

"_Well usually...yeah! Well, not just lemonade, iced tea, sometimes juice. Well, sorry, I just, I thought you liked me. I'm such a jerk." He sighed, he looked down, embarrassed by his behavior. _

"_No," I disagreed, feeling guilty. Maybe I was too harsh. "I suppose it could happen to anyone, and I should have been more specific." I grinned, showing him that I wasn't mad at him._

_End of Flashback_

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. I could not let Lauren know that I fell for her stupid prank. No way I can tell her that, she'd never let me live it down.

I buried my head in Sam's arm, expelling all thoughts of a naked John from mind. (I kept in contact with him since then) and began to think of a way to plot my prank on him, for that day. (It was never mentioned again between us, but since he was a waiter now I could have my fun, my chance to embarrass him.)

"How do you make lemonade?" I asked everyone in the car, knowing the perfect way to get back at him.


	13. Do You Want Your Screaming Orgasm Now

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**Do You Want Your Screaming Orgasm Now Or Later?**

_You were always the mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair  
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care  
Then you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say  
Besides some comment on the weather _

Foolish Games – Jewel

_Sam _

I looked at Shar, confused at her sudden and unexpected question, especially since she's been so quiet throughout the whole car ride. I'd been a little worried that she was upset, especially when she buried her face against my arm.

At first I thought she was lingering on the '_time to catch up on my sleep_' comment I made earlier. She did tend to obsess over trivial matters. One of her faults was that she, at times, was pedantic. It didn't matter to me though, it made her all the more perfect. But I doubted it was that, she wouldn't get mad or obsess over something like that, and if she did it would have been obvious right then and there. She gets really quiet and spacey when she's mad.

Wait a minute…how did I know that? I've never seen her mad…it's really strange that I know so much about her in such a limited amount of time…

Dean slowly halted to a stop and parked the car right in front of the restaurant.

"Why?" Lauren asked, finally taking a break from her head bopping.

Why the hell did I make that comment anyway? Especially when Sharika was right there?! It was insensitive, that and I wouldn't put it past her to remind me of it when I initiate any actions that would ensure us _practicing_ tonight. Just to get a reaction out of me, or she might even be serious! She overreacts or overanalyzes situations.

I never would have made remarks like that anywhere else, I guess I just felt freer with Shar then I did with anyone else, even more so than Dean.

"I need to know," she simply replied.

I glanced at her face, the corners of her lips were struggling to stay straight, and her mischievous smile was fighting to break free. What's she planning? She didn't want to come here just because of her currently unknown intentions? Did she? That would explain why her voice went squeaky as she was telling us about this place.

Everyone unbuckled their seatbelts and stepped outside of the car. I started to make my way to the restaurant, Dean following me. Suddenly his hand grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. I sent him my 'what?' look. He nodded towards the car; I shifted my gaze from him to the car and saw that Sharika and Lauren were _still _standing out in front of the Impala.

I could practically hear Dean mentally groan 'Women!'

"Please tell me," Sharika begged in an urgent tone.

"Jeez, fine," Lauren finally agreed. "Combine the juice of half a lemon, two tablespoons of sugar syrup and cold water in a tall glass. Put in _ice_," she paused, giving Sharika an evil look. "And serve immediately."

Dean and I looked at each other, exchanging perplexed expressions before returning our eyes onto Lauren. Did she store random facts in her head or something?

"How do you know these things?" Dean asked her.

"I- uh- oh look, a door! YAY!" she flounced into the restaurant.

I gave Sharika the same look I had just given Dean. She replied with a 'don't ask me, it's Lauren' look.

"Hey guys, let me order," she said. She then walked in after Lauren without waiting for a reply. Dean and I once again exchanged looks of confusion before heading into Alexandra's ourselves.

It felt good to be out, although I much would have preferred to be _practicing, _and what was it, _getting distracted_ with Sharika now. We've been trapped indoors for way to long, away from reality.

Everything was so surreal, I mean, last week I was solving this random mystery that Dean and I picked up from the newspaper at another state, saving lives, the usual, waiting for a clue to the whereabouts of dad. And then, out of no where this woman, this fantastic woman, just lands into my life. Almost as if we were meant to find each other, destined to be. Not that I believed in that stuff. And neither did Shar.

We were both so similar in some ways. Both of us wanted to escape from this supernatural crap, but we kept on getting drawn back into it. It wasn't all that bad though, it did lead me straight to Sharika. And her to me. For that one fact, it was all worth it.

Sometimes I do wonder what would have happened if Jessica was never killed. I definitely would not have met Sharika. She wouldn't have lost her virginity at age twenty one; she would've waited till she was married. Would I have cared then? I mean I would have been perfectly happy with Jessica. Except for that cloud that constantly hung over us, taking the form of guilt and fear. The fear of me being exposed for the freak I am. I'll always love Jessica, the memory of her at least. She was, at one point, a huge part of my life.

I couldn't compare my love with her to the one I share with Sharika now; it'd be like comparing apples and oranges. They were too different. But she didn't fit perfectly in my arms like Sharika did. It was almost as if she were molded to be like that. How we get along so well, and how perfect we are for each other.

Part of me is afraid that I'm just going to wake up and find out that this is all a dream. That I'm going to open my eyes and look over to the other side of my bed only to find it empty. Then I'll glance up at the alarm clock by my bed to see the digits, four twenty four, brightly glow in the darkness. Then hear the door click open, as Dean stumbles his way in, after a long night of being…out.

I mean, that this, Sharika, is all to perfect. It's hard to believe it's not something my mind created. But then, could even MY mind contrive something as strange, and wonderful as this situation.

I looked across the restaurant to see Lauren sitting down at a booth. Dean and I weaved our way through the crowd and sat across from her.

I craned my neck, searching for Sharika. My eyes sought her out. She was standing, waiting for someone to move out of the way before she could continue her route to the register. A patch of sunlight shone through the window, surrounding her, letting her bask in the glow. This made her hair shine and her skin radiate.

_She looks so beautiful…_

This can't be real, can it?

∞∞

_Sharika_

_Move! _My mind yelled at the freaking snail in front of me. _Jeez! How long does it freaking take to walk two steps?!?!_ (I tend to get impatient when I'm in a rush. It's a personality flaw.)

The particularly large person made his way around me and out the door.

_Finally! Took him about eight months but it would've have been eight years if he had wanted it to be. God, exercise man! It wouldn't hurt you! Then again it might, I mean there is only so much weight a treadmill can take. _

I rushed to the busy counter. There were only a few people waiting in line, a maximum of seven, but there were three lines. I strode up behind a woman in a red sundress, who was currently ordering her breakfast.

_There he is!_

My eyes caught a flash of blonde hair go past.

He was just as tall as ever, not as tall as Sam though. He looked so adorable in his uniform, which consisted of a maroon polyester shirt, black pants, and a hat which read 'Have a happy day' across the brim.

He had shortened his hair to a crew cut. It matched him, although anything would. He had one of those faces which would have suited any choice of hair cut. This fortunate luck, of course was lost on him. Why couldn't I have a face like that?

The change of hair style did more then just look good on him; it reminded me just of how much time had past, since I first came from Australia. It felt like it was just two days ago I was staring at a shirtless, pant-less and shoeless John in horrified fascination, and now I was engaged to the love of my life, on a road trip to save my best friends. Three years, wow. It's been _three years_. How could I not have noticed the days fly by?

The woman was served and I slyly walked up to the counter, bearing a mischievous grin.

"Hi, how may I-?" John stopped in the middle of his sentence, at long last noticing that I was at the counter.

∞∞

_Sam_

The guy at the counter stopped in the middle of his drilled in greeting when he saw Shar.

He smiled at her. She said something and he laughed just before he swooped down and kissed her forehead!

It looked like they were exchanging salutations. Nothing more…appearances can be deceiving though.

I curiously glared at him. He was touching my fiancé, I didn't like it. It was obvious that he shared some sort of a relationship with her, wonder what it was? Probably a study partner, hopefully a study partner from college.

Looked about our age, maybe a bit older. He was about six feet, six foot one. I was a lot taller then him. Average looking, not nearly attractive enough for Sharika. He has his blonde hair in a crew cut; Sharika likes long hair on guys, hair like mine. And she prefers brunettes to blondes and any other hair color, she told me so herself.

Sharika leant in towards him, grinning lopsidedly. Her weight was balanced on both her elbows and her head resting in her hands.

Why didn't she ever flirt with me like that when we had first met? She told me that she was attracted to me from the moment she saw me. But she was more reserved around me, that is until we began discussing the Great Gatsby.

Not only that but the consequence of her leaning that way was that it gave all the guys behind her a perfect view of her ass. And they were taking full advantage of it. Sharika, being herself and too preoccupied with the conversation at hand, didn't notice.

"I'm going to go order with Shar," I excused myself from the table.

I started to get up, teach those guys staring and even nudging their friends so they could join in at checking out my fiancé a lesson. Well, at least to block their view of that portion of her body.

And not only that, it gave _him_ a clear shot of Sharika's chest. And only based on the fact that he is male, which is more then enough, he would enjoy his opportunity. Which male wouldn't? Even I couldn't help myself and I'm one of the decent ones.

Why did she have to be so naive when it came to male intentions? Did she learn nothing from her trip to England?!? Didn't she realize what simple flirting would to a guy? When women flirt they think they are just flirting, simple fun. But when a guy sees a girl flirt with him he thinks '_Finally! Someone who will sleep with me!_' Yes, it is pathetic, but it's true. Half the guys on earth think that way then night falls and the guys on the other hemisphere wake up and do the exact same thing! It's the curse of testosterone.

"No, she can clearly handle ordering herself," Dean commented, grinning at me. I sent him an annoyed glance.

"Yeah," Lauren agreed. I doubt she had even noticed the flirting between my fiancé and some random man. "Sit back down! You're blocking my view!"

Frowning I reluctantly obliged, having no clue to what view she was talking about. I didn't understand half the things she said. Right now it wasn't a concern of mine.

I glanced at the counter again.

Sharika stood up, but it didn't solve the problem. All the males in the room were still checking her out. And he could still see down her top. This is a major draw back for having a short, attractive fiancé. One that no man ever sees coming.

Why am I so upset? I know myself that Sharika doesn't flirt, and there was that deviant smile of hers in the car. She probably has a plan for something to happen. I worry too much. And if he did misread her actual intentions there would be no way that anything would happen. It's Sharika, good old reliable Sharika. Except that she wasn't old, she was younger then all of us. And not to mention, she would stop anything from happening.

But it doesn't dismiss the fact that he might try something. What if she leaves him with the impression that she wants to continue whatever was going on there? And he tracks her down in a dark alley and hurts her?! I can't let that happen!

_STOP! You're overreacting to this!_

What is wrong with me? First of all Sharika is more then capable to protect herself against attacks. Although it doesn't seem like it when you consider her skinny arms and basically her whole frame. And second of all _this is Sharika we're talking about_. She doesn't flirt, at all. No matter how much she likes a guy or how attracted she is to him. It must be all part of her plan. Whatever that was. I trusted her, it's just that guy I didn't trust.

_Don't worry. It's nothing! _Constantly ran through my mind in a never ending stream. It was right, this was nothing. Nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

"Dude," Lauren began, giving me an incredulous look. She then just grinned to herself, glanced at Dean then muttered – "Wow, now _that's_ a definite nine and a half."

What the – I started to wonder, then glanced back at where Sharika was still bent over the counter. I had no time to contemplate any of Lauren's quirks at this moment.

She grinned her impish grin and twirled her hair. He responded by raising his eyebrows suggestively and nodding.

_What was that!?!_

He was reciprocating to his misread understandings of the behavior shown by Sharika.

A guy can always tell when another guy is into a girl! And he was totally into her! Well he can't have her, she's mine! No one can look at her in the way I do, no one has the right to think about her the way I do. They don't love her, I do! They would only want her until they sleep with her and then forget about her the next day!

_That doesn't stop them in any way from wanting her, _my logical brain proceeded to inform me.

It looked like he just asked if there was anything else that she wanted. She pouted her lips indecisively.

There, that one look! It was enough to drive a man to the verge of insanity if he couldn't have her right then and there! Before we got together that look made me want to throw her down and ravish her, not that I'd tell any one about my urges. Dean was the perverted one. I was the nerd of our team. I've actually been called this.

Why was I the nerd? Sure I wasn't as buff as Arnold Schwarzenegger but I did have muscles, more then Dean. And I was taller than Dean. And that other guy, I was more built than him too. I could probably pick him up with one hand, bring him up to my eye level and sternly order him to stay away from my fiancé. Since he was shorter then me and weaker he would be easily intimidated by me. One positive aspect of my height, other then the fact that it was one of the reasons why Sharika found me more attractive then Dean.

Shar shook her head and smiled sweetly at him. She then gave him one last little wave, subtle but sexy! Especially to a sex starved male. She then proceeded to make her way to us, an extra sway in her hips.

Not only did he notice, but so did all the males in proximity. They all took pleasure in viewing this, and as before nudged their friends so they could see her as well.

I sent them all dirty looks.

"Hey," Sharika greeted us.

I smiled tensely at her, whereas Dean grinned at her bearing all this teeth.

Sharika moved to sit by Lauren when I grabbed her forearm and pulled her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her waist possessively.

I didn't need to look at her face to know that she was giving me one of her 'what are you doing?' looks. But that didn't matter, all that mattered now was that every single male in the room, other then Dean, could stop staring like pathetic slobs at her ass.

_Dude, that was you from when you first met her to now. Even you were staring at her when she was leaning on the counter. _

Well I'm allowed, she's mine!

I quickly searched for _him_. _He _was at the beverage machines, getting busy to serve us our orders, and talking to another guy. The other guy grinned and nodded energetically before running off behind the other workers in into another part of the kitchen that wasn't in my peripheral vision.

_I'll get him later. _

I switched my gaze from him and glanced around the room, taking in the downtrodden expressions on all the guys faces. Some, well actually the majority, of them were glaring at me in jealousy, others were saddened to find out that she was taken and the rest in respect for me having acquired a woman like this.

I sent them all my best content smile, as I nuzzled Sharika's neck and brushed my fingers over her sides.

She writhed and giggled. I knew that I'd cause her that reaction, she's very ticklish, particularly around her waist.

I then, with my hand, moved her face so it was tilted up towards mine. I bent my neck lower until Sharika and my lips met.

I kissed her deeply and passionately, feeling all the envious eyes on me.

I smiled mentally.

When we parted I took another sweeping glance at the males in the room.

_Heh, it worked. _

∞∞

_Lauren_

Did someone die?

I had to take a break from my perving – well, okay, fake perving… I was checking out all these guys just to see if Dean would notice, although there were some pretty cute butts in here…

They just weren't as cute as Dean's. This morning I kept noticing these things about him, due to the fact that I thought we'd slept together – I mean, that would have given me a kind of _right_ to perve on him.

That's not the point.

What is the point? I mean, it's not like I particularly cared if he noticed me perving on guys or whatever…

Sharika and Sam started pashing – fun, fun.

I checked the room again - everyone was still staring at our table all moodily… I decided to test out my theory of the dead person. I picked up the edge of the tablecloth and stuck my head under the table to search for a body – but no.

It would have been more interesting than Sam and Sharika's dueling tongues, but there you go. It would have also had consequences for us. How does one go about getting a dead person under their table? And would people just look at the body like, _oh no someone died?_ Or would they start screaming?

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked from above. He lifted the tablecloth off of my shoulders and gave me a look that moments ago I was giving Sam and Sharika – a kind of, _there's gum on the bottom of my shoe look_.

_I'M NOT GUM!!!_

"I, um, dropped my contact!" Inspiration in the face of his questions at last! I just hoped Shar was still too engrossed in her and Sam's –

"Lauren, you got laser eye surgery years ago," Sharika pointed out, as I removed my head from under the table, managing for once not to knock it.

_Crap, couldn't Sam just have kept her busy little while longer?!?! Stupid Sam, why can't your hormones get the best of you when I need them to?! When do they get the best of you? WHEN YOU MAKE ME LOOK AT MY BEST FRIEND'S CLEAVAGE YOU DICKWAD!_

"So?" I asked, desperately trying to think of a cover story. "I just like the way they feel!"

∞∞

_Sharika_

She was lying. It was obvious, she started shifting her eyes from corner to corner and playing with her ear.

I ignored it though. My mind was still reeling from the kiss. What had gotten into him to act so spontaneously? And why in public? He knows I hate PDA's; they make me feel extremely self conscious.

Maybe he was keeping me anticipated for when we went back to the motel? If he was why was he bearing his victorious smile and looking around the room?

And why was everyone looking at this table? Well, at least all the guys here, the girls are totally oblivious to this.

The things males think – that, I'll never know.

I leaned against Sam's chest; I might as well enjoy it.

I was still feeling tiny sparks of triumph. After John and I greeted each other, (he always kisses me on the forehead, there is a reason to this but it is one that requires a long explanation). I ordered lemonade. Then I went on to tell him a detailed procedure on how to make it, with hand gestures. It was enjoyable to see his reaction.

Anyways, I got back at him, end of story.

"Here are your orders," John's voice said, as he lowered the tray onto the table.

∞∞

_Sam_

As I saw him approach I drew Sharika closer to me.

"Here are your orders." He said. He handed out three lemonades and a drink that I wasn't familiar with. It was in a martini glass, and was the color of weak coffee.

What was he playing at? I gazed at the drink in curiosity. It looked like alcohol. But I couldn't be sure; anyway he could have put anything he wants to in that drink without any of us noticing. Why was he trying to poison my finance? Maybe I should have a friendly chat with him later on, like I did with the bikers at that bar. I certainly left an impression on them; there is no doubt that I can leave one on _him._

"Is that a…?" Lauren suddenly piped up, staring at the glass, a kind of strangled expression on her face, as though she was struggling not to laugh.

I looked at Shar; she had a confused expression on her face, as did Dean and I. I hugged her as close to me as I could without cutting off her air supply.

"Yeah. Something I much rather would have preferred, that hot, sweaty afternoon." Lauren choked on her fit of laughter, biting on one of her hands as she stared at the floor. "One screaming orgasm, on the house."

_WHAT THE HELL???...WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!_

I knew it, I knew it! I knew this guy was going for Sharika!! I was right! Can't he tell that she's taken, by ME?? I mean, it's pretty obvious – this guy must be stupid not to realize, considering our positions and the kiss. Even the pimply teenager at the corner knew that Sharika and I were going out. He didn't look pleased about it but neither did any other male.

He was grinning at Sharika, and even I could tell that there was some underlying message behind his expression.

What underlying message was that??? _'I want you?'_ I needed to know, I mean this is my fiancé we're talking about. I needed to protect her from harms way, and this guy was definitely gonna jump her if he ever got the chance! It's what all males would do.

"So did you want your screaming orgasm now, or later?" Sharika asked, tilting her head and grinning at him in a way I recognized from our _practicing_.

Why was Sharika leading him on?? Didn't she understand the different perspectives of men and women on flirting? She's too innocent in her mindset when it comes to guys intentions.

I gave whomever this guy was my most poisonous look.

"Well…" the sentence faltered on his lips as he noticed my look. "There are people waiting for me at the counter. You have my number and I have yours, keep in touch Riks." He extended a hand and ruffled Sharika's hair.

Sharika sent him a confused look as he walked away in fright.

_NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE BOYFRIEND!!!!!!_

"Sam, you're going to break my back!" Sharika said as she removed my arms from around her and slid off my lap. She gave me a curious look before walking around the table and sitting next to Lauren.

In perfect synchronization Sharika and Lauren glanced at each other's drink, then looked at each other, shrugged and grabbed each other's drink before taking a swig from the glasses.

"What was that about?" Lauren asked, looking at Sharika questioningly.

"Lauren, didn't you see?! That was John Timmons!" Sharika looked at Lauren expectantly. It looks like I know what name to look up incase I ever need to have a word with him. Lauren shook her head. "Our next door neighbor from uni!" Sharika clarified when she saw that Lauren clearly didn't remember.

"Oh! That was John, yeah; it was the crew cut that had me confused." Lauren said, as she looked back at the counter.

"I recognized him with the hair cut," Sharika said, staring incredulously at her best friend.

"That's because you saw him –" Lauren cut herself off from whatever she was about to say. "More often." She then hid her face behind the glass she was drinking from. "Anyways, he was more your friend then he was mine."

What did she mean by that? I knew that she changed her mind about what she was going to say. What the hell happened that afternoon!?!

"What did he mean?" Dean asked, enjoying my behavior this morning. I'm not going to hear the end of this. Ever.

"Oh, I moved in two weeks into the house we were living in while we attended uni," Sharika began to explain. "And I met him on the first day. He asked me if I needed any help and since he was being nice to me I thought I'd be nice to him. So I invited him in for lemonade. He misunderstood my actual intentions. When we went inside and I was getting the drinks ready he took off all his clothes, 'cause he thought I wanted to sleep with him. When I turned around he was standing in the middle off the room." Sharika started to laugh. "And…and…I freaked out," she struggled to say as her giggle fits got the better of her. "And then all misunderstandings were cleared up and we became friends."

"Oh, so you saw him…" I trailed off, half feeling relieved that nothing really happened that afternoon and half mad at him for thinking Shar would ever be that type. What had caused me to act so childishly back then? I mean, Sharika has inside jokes with everyone she knew; this was just another one of them.

I took a sip from my glass.

"Naked?" Lauren offered enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Sharika started her laughing fit again. "He was the one who started my drinking habit."

"Drinking habit? You drink?" Dean asked, confusion flickering across his face. He glanced at me.

"No," I answered as Sharika shook her head.

"It's, remember when your shirt was wet Sam?" she asked me.

I nodded, not understanding what she was getting at.

"Remember when you were changing I was drinking water from my purple cup? That habit," Sharika explained.

"Oh, okay," I said. I had wondered at the time why she was doing that, it had seemed peculiar to me. Now it sort of made sense. Sort of.

"I needed something to fidget with and the glasses were the only thing in sight. And thus the beginnings of my drinking habit."

A silence followed her explanations. I looked at her, about to ask her something when I noticed her looking around the room.

Sharika frowned and looked around the room. "Hey, why are all these guys staring at our table?"

Dean and I looked at each other, neither of us wanting to answer. It wasn't like we could tell her that they were all checking her out, she wouldn't believe us either.

Dean nodded at me, inclining me to tell Sharika, since she was my fiancée. I shook my head. No one at this table would tell her that –

"It's because they were all staring at your ass," Lauren said in a dramatic stage whisper. She gave me an innocent look, then took a sip from her martini glass, eying me from over the top of it.

She then laughed and turned to Sharika, as she sent her a disbelieving look. "No, seriously, some of them are even glaring at Sam."

I felt a wave of victory wash over me.

"Yeah, he knows," Dean said, smiling in amusement, and sending me much the same look Lauren just had. "He likes it."

Sharika gave me a _'what the hell'_ look, before looking switching her gaze to the window.

One day, one day Dean I'm going to get back at you. Just you wait.

"The beach looks so nice today," Sharika commented, a slight flush staining her cheeks, and a soft glow in her eyes as she looked outside. I recalled smelling the tang of salt as we'd all left the Impala, but hadn't paid much attention to it.

"Dude, this has so much vodka in it," Lauren said, wrinkling her nose up at what John had intended for Sharika. "I think he was trying to get you drunk so he could take advantage of you. Anyone want?" She began to stick the drink under everyone's noses, circling the table with it, the drink barely staying inside the glass, and grinned at us.

"No," Dean answered simply. Sharika and I just shook our heads.

"Okay then, more for me." She downed the rest of the drink in one gulp, and started to cough, her eyes tearing. She opened her mouth and stretched her jaw, then let out another cough. "That was good!" she said, her voice hoarse. Suddenly she eyes Sharika as though she was a fascinating new specimen of life, just discovered on earth. I felt like that every moment I was with her, so it was understandable that – "Oh my god! THE BEACH?!?! I haven't been to the beach in _so_ long… CAN WE GO TO THE BEACH?? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please????"

HOW does she do that? I mean, it doesn't even sound like 'please' anymore, it sounds like 'plea'.

"Uh…" I grunted, unsure of what to do. Dean and Shar were no help, calmly drinking from their glasses and acting as though there wasn't a partially screaming woman at our table. Then again, they were more used to Lauren than I was.

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you, by now you shoulda somehow realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…_"

"Ooh, ooh! I'm loved!" Lauren said, and dug in her pocket, searching for her phone. "Hello??" she asked enthusiastically, having finally retrieved it. "Oh, hey! …Yeah, I know. I _know_." She laughed. "Oh, I know! Yeah, I'm at Alexandra's, this –" she paused. "Oh, _you_ know?" She laughed again. "Like, we're going to the beach. Can you come here? Really?! Cool!" She tilted her head to the side and mouthed something to Sharika, who simply stared at her. Lauren waved her hand at Sharika dismissively, and then grinned. "Yeah. Yeah. Okay, see you soon. Bye!"

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna –"_ her phone started up again, vibrating and turning in place on the table. "I told you I'm loved!" she cried ecstatically and picked up her mobile again. "Hello?!" she asked with her usual exuberance. Then the person on the other line answered, and she seemed to diminish slightly, and turned partly away from the table. "Oh…hi mum."

Dean and I leaned forward in unison and grinned at her. Now _this_ was interesting.

"_If you could only see the way she loves me, maybe you would understand, why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do_…" Now Sharika's phone started ringing.

What on –

"Baba?" she asked into the phone, after staring apprehensively at the caller ID for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah, I'm fine. No, I haven't been molested by gang rapists yet."

"I'm fine; I haven't contracted a deadly virus. Oh, umm…it's just me and Lauren!" Sharika said in her squeaky voice. "No one else –"

"Yes, I know about Meagan and whathisface…No! No, I am not going to start dating a guy with a name starting with the letter V! Why? Aunty Rose is –"

"_Na Baba! _I haven't stopped studying. My assignment is due on Monday next week, it's finished…I got a ninety nine for that test…_WHAT! _Because I'm human, I couldn't have gotten a hundred –"

"How are Sean and Paul? They're adopting! Oh My God!! Where are they? I want to – yes mum, I realize Sean is my age and has already found the man of his dreams…Yes, yes….NO! I am not THAT old!!"

"So what if Adam got a hundred for that test?! I tried my best, I'm _not Adam! _I'm doing more difficult courses then he is, and the test was hard! The next highest mark was eighty six percent!"

Dean and I glanced at each other, and then down at our phones. They didn't ring. Then again, we hardly ever received calls – even from Dad; and now that he'd been kidnapped, receiving a call from him was...highly unlikely to say the least. We could have gotten calls from any one of our numerous contacts, but that too wasn't probable. A couple knew what we were doing, and so wouldn't disturb us unless they uncovered some new information, and the rest had their own problems.

"EVEN SHARIKA IS ENGAGED NOW OKAY?!? SO??! So what if I don't have my life partner all planned ou–?" Sharika suddenly gave Lauren a poisonous look and jabbed her in the side with her elbow. "OW! No, I just banged my elbow on the table – mum! Just because – I'm still not as clumsy as you are! ARGH! Mum! Just because I'm clumsy doesn't mean that guys won't want to be with me –"

"No Baba, she was telling the truth," Sharika adopted a sarcastic tone. "Yes, I met this guy four days ago and got engaged. And now I'm going to bear his children! And you know what?!? He _isn't _bangali!" She went back to her serious tone. "Honestly Baba, what do you think of me…so what if you're a math teacher, it doesn't mean that I'm going to get full marks on the tests. And it was ninety nine point seventy three! They are going to round that up to a hundred percent –"

"You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside Mum. So warm – are you serious? How is he anyways? And please tell me you dropped golf, because asides from the fact that it is the dullest '_sport'_ in the world, Aunty Rose told me that she turned over the Tarot cards, and read that anyone in our family doing golf on that day was going to die because they get struck by lightning! ….Yes, I realize she's seeing that shrink…no…yes…I know I said she was crazy!"

"Yes, I got a hundred for all the other tests. NO, no one is giving me a hard time. Yes I'm eating properly, yes I have enough money. _I know!!!_ BABA! Yes, I'm drinking milk every single day and night…how am I supposed to know?...I can't call you all the time! My life isn't that interesting here…ok, fine, I'll call you everyday now. I'll call you _tonight…_I'll be fine. I have appendages that others don't, you know that…na, ami bangla bhule gine! I'm not embarrassed to speak it here…acha, dahko Bap. Ami tomar shate pore kotha bholbo. Amache akon gete hobe."

"No I don't have any new age suggestions to spice up your – NO! Does Dad know your asking me? I mean! Oh my god! Do you want to think of ME while you're – AH!! Stop that! I'm leaving, I'm leaving now! Yes, yes. Mwah. I love you too! _Goodbye mother_!"

"Yes, I'll keep to my studies. I love you too, kodafas!"

They hung up at the same time, shook their heads at their respective phones, muttering "Parents!!" before turning their attention back to us.

"Uh…" I started to say, but Sharika interrupted me, hitting Lauren on the arm. "Lauren! How could you say that?! He was right on the phone –"

"My mum was giving me the whole, 'YOU ARE GOING TO DIE ALONE' speech okay!?!? I was under pressure! And you know me when I'm under pressure!!" Lauren moaned, and put her head in her hands, rubbing her face. "_Horrible_."

"You know what," Sharika asked, her sarcastic tone back in place. "You should be a surgeon, considering your ability to thrive under pressure! And I got the whole you could do better speech."

"Yeah, that is totally equal to _DYING ALONE_!!! I mean, so what if everyone in my family is getting life partners and married and babies – my biological clock isn't even switched on yet, let alone ticking and screaming BABIES every other minute!! I –"

"As much as I'd like to continue this…whatever the hell it is, if you want to go to the beach Lauren, we've got to get going," Dean said, swiftly defusing the situation and standing up. He raised his eyebrows at Lauren, whose whole face lit up as she looked at my brother.

It makes me smile, the way they seem to think that they care nothing for each other, then turn around and share looks like that. Dean's face had softened as soon as he'd looked down at her. In fact, it did almost every time he looked at her at all. I suppose it must be what I look like when I catch myself watching Sharika.

"BEACH!!!" Lauren caroled, jumping up, grabbing Dean's arm and leaping towards the exit.

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Okay, lol, for those who keep asking how to pronounce Joyee, I say it "Joy-ee", but you can also say it "Jo-yee". Her nickname's Joey for those who still can't pronounce it. Btw, for those who are interested, what Sharika said to her dad in Bangla is:

_No I didn't forget Bangla! … Okay dad, I'll talk to you later. I have to go now._


	14. It's Too Creepy, Even For Us

Disclaimer: For those of you who have picked up the FRIENDS references (which I personally had no idea about… will be talking to Peace7 about this…:P) I apologise continuously, loudly, and vehemently. We disclaim anything that belongs to FRIENDS and Supernatural. Happy reading!

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**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**It's Too Creepy, Even For Us**

_Unaware but underlined I figured out this story  
It wasn't good  
But in the corner of my mind I celebrated glory  
But that was not to be   
In the twist of separation you excelled at being free  
Can't you find a little room inside for me_

Back For Good – Take That

_Dean_

We started to head towards the beach, Lauren leading the way, me just behind her and Sam tightly holding onto Sharika's hand, in deep thought, a little ways behind us. I'm guessing it had to do with Sharika denying that Sam existed to her father. I didn't know much about different cultures and that sort of thing, but Sharika was a daughter and she was an only child. Overprotective fathers were part of the package when you wanted to hook up with a chick like that for the long haul.

It was fun to watch his behavior at Alexandra's. I knew Sammy had possessive issues before, but now he has even more he needs to work on. Since he usually goes out with tall chicks he needed to learn the drawbacks of having a small fiancé, such as when she was leaning over the counter like that. Even I noticed the way every guy was eying her, and the way Sam was eying every guy as well as Sharika's displayed attributes.

I knew these things already. The amount of women I used to hook up with almost daily (sometimes even three times a day) made up for my lack of worldly knowledge. What can I say, I'm a handsome devil. And it supplied me with the knowledge I could have used in the situations like the one in there, that Sam was drowning in. And then he had to go and state his dominance over her in the most animalistic way he could have, bar bending her over one of the tables, or urinating on her like a dog does to mark its territory.

The state he was in back there, I wouldn't have put it past him.

I looked over at Lauren, who was happily making her way to the beach.

"Why do you want to go to the beach anyway?" I asked her. It was always minus degrees in the water this time of year. It's not like she could go swimming, or get a tan. The sudden vision of her topless, sun baking on the sand stuck my forehead, and I almost stopped breathing.

"Because I like the beach. You know, the whole sea water, sharks, sand getting everywhere thing? It's Aussie tradition."

"Right." She was blushing, and using what Sharika called her 'rant' voice. Lying for sure.

"Don't believe me, see if I care!" she said and crossed her arms, turning her face away.

"Okay, fine," I said, acting on a hunch. I studied the pavement I was walking on as it made its way through the stages of concrete, to sand covered concrete, to sand.

"Okay, fine!" she repeated. Ten seconds later – "It's because of the half naked guys you can usually see running around. Apparently America doesn't have them either!" She frowned, making a sweeping gesture with her arm to show the shore's lack of 'half naked guys you can usually see running around'. We'd hit sand by now. "Grow some damn warm air," she muttered to herself. Then whacked me playfully on the shoulder, not even glancing in my direction.

Would she even have checked out the half naked guys if there were any, or just pretended to as she had back at Alexandra's? I'd seen her checking out guy's asses as they walked past, and muttering comments to herself. They sounded like numbers mostly, which was weird. _(Definitely 3…ugh, 0!! Minus 2. 7…make that 7 and a half…)_ I'd been watching it all out of the corner of my eye, when I'd seen her glance at me from under her lashes, then she'd gone back to ogling the ass of a guy a few years younger than me. (She'd labeled that one an 8 point 75.) He was about twenty four, or five. Closer to her age than I was, in any case.

This behavior had made me wonder – was she doing it to make me jealous or something?

Stupid, seeing as how we didn't like each other like that… But what about after she'd bought her dress, and that episode after where I –

But then I'd seen that same guy she'd been looking at wink at her, seen her smile back before turning to our table again – and I'd gotten a wave of something I was pretty sure Sammy was feeling too, as he watched the guys watching Shar. I pushed those thoughts away.

The four of us reached the waves, and started walking along the edge of them. I watched Sam pull Sharika even closer to himself, and shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. There was a sharp wind blowing off the water, and it was growing darker by the minute, courtesy of the storm clouds.

Lauren bent down and took her shoes off. She glanced up at the rest of us, smiling at Sharika as innocently as only Lauren could – she could rival an angel, if it wasn't for the quirk in one side of her mouth. She then walked closer to the waves.

"Lauren!! Do you know how cold the sea in America is this time of year? It's minus de–"

"Hey guys, what's that?" Sam interrupted. He pointed somewhere down the beach, and all of us turned our eyes in that direction. A small crowd of people had gathered close to the water, and a lot of shouting could be heard, even from up here.

"What do you think is going on?" Lauren asked, her head cocked to the side. Her hair was starting to whip around her face, as the wind grew wilder. Sharika's was already held back in a ponytail, but Lauren's was loose – I forget when she'd taken it out. It looked as though it had a life of it's own as curly tendrils flew in front of her face – like Medusa, almost. Sam and I had taken one of them out a few months back, a gorgon, annoying thing – we'd had to wear mirrored sunglasses the whole time we were hunting it. Lauren didn't look like a typical gorgon though, she just looked…

"I don't know," I said, meaning two different things, and then I heard '_Is she okay?_' from up the beach. A masculine voice answered '_She'll be fine._', and the mob parted to let two paramedics carrying a stretcher through.

"It can't be…" Sharika whispered her eyes wide and those of a typical shock victim. She started to run towards the group.

"What the?" Sam asked, staring after her.

"Shar!!! Don't leave me with them!!!" Lauren shouted and started to run after her. Them meaning us, I'm guessing. It was Sam and I who should have been calling after Sharika, shouting 'Don't leave us with her'… but hey, if she's running it works both –

"Hey," I said, surprised, and grinned, watching Lauren as she ran. I envisioned her in a bright red swimsuit. "Baywatch."

She turned back around, shooting me a poisonous, shocked look; she then crossed her arms over her chest and kept running.

Damn.

∞∞

_Sharika_

It couldn't be – that flash in the middle of the crowd; that familiar face. I was just setting myself up for a fall, as I had so many times after his death, when I thought I'd seen –

But this time, I was so sure – it couldn't be – it couldn't be – could it?

∞∞

_Lauren_

Baywatch…pfft.

I haven't been compared to Pam in years.

In any case, I continued to hold my arms across my chest, to stop any more…um…things happening that made me be compared to Pamela in the first place.

Sharika, in a very rare show of speed, had ended up getting to the crowd far ahead of me. How the hell does she run on sand? It's so hard, all of it slipping under your feet and –

The crowd parted slightly, and I saw Sharika hugging some guy in the middle of it, in total abandon. My eyes widened, and I stopped in my tracks to stare at the couple.

_What the – _

The crowd shifted together again and I shook my head. It couldn't have been Sharika – a, Sharika doesn't hug, b, we know hardly anyone in America, let alone anyone Sharika would hug, because Sharika _doesn't hug_, c, Sam was right here, and Sharika wasn't stupid enough to be throwing herself at some random guy while he was…not that she would anyway, seeing as how _SHARIKA DOESN'T HUG_.

I'd been moving again, as I'd rationalized, but stopped again as I saw Sharika (there was no way it could be anyone else, I knew it this time), held in that guys arms, in the romantic dance pose position. You know the one. The one Dean held her in last night before he kissed her.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Sam and Dean with their mouths open so wide that multiple birds would be able to take up nests in there if they so wished. I then started running again – I mean, whatever was happening couldn't be Shar's choice, she's in 'True Love' with Yeti Boy, and I doubt she's even thought of another guy like she does him in her life – let alone while she has him – I'm not making any sense.

What can I say, I was _really_ confused.

The whole crowd had left now, and I looked up from my feet (I'm unsteady on solid land as it is – the whole sand thing, moving under my feet, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera – it did not bode well for my balance) to see Sharika lying beneath the guy, who was now completely on top of her.

RAPING ON A PUBLIC BEACH – WAS AMERICA REALLY THIS TWISTED!?!?

∞∞

_Sharika_

OH MY GOD! IT WAS!!!!!!!!!!!! There was no mistaking it this time, it was definitely David. How…how…

_He faked his death,_ my mind immediately supplied. _That makes the most sense. _

The stalker was after him, they took the threat seriously. After he decided to lay low the police probably thought he was planning his attack on David, this would explain why the FBI came and David's case was taken so seriously.

But still, it's like he was back from the dead, I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it, but I mean, here he was, standing right in front of me, saving some girl from choking to death.

"D-David?" I asked uncertainly once I made my way through the thick crowds.

David looked up at me; his eyes squinted momentarily, taking me in. "Sharika!"

It was him!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My body was instantly overcome with happiness. _Oh my god, David!_ I ran up to him and hugged him with all my might, almost like a little first grader would greet his/her parent after the first day of school. His arms wrapped themselves around me, hugging me back.

He's gotten taller than before (he was five foot ten, now he looks about six foot two) and got more defined muscles, yet it still felt like I was hugging my best friend, my first love from that one year in high school. It didn't feel like all this time has passed, that we're now in our twenties. That we had ever been apart… It's exactly like when I was running towards him so I could hug him and make that weirdo following me (not so subtly) think that we were a couple. It felt normal, natural to hug him. The only other person who I could hug like this is Sam.

"I can't believe it, you're…" I hugged him closer to myself, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, tears threatening to fall down the sides of my face. This was David, DAVID!

"I missed you so much!" he said.

We parted until there was about ten centimeters separating us. "How? Police protection program or something? They took you in cause of the stalker? When did you come back? Just recently since they only just caught him? Why didn't you call me before?" The questions spilled out of my mouth, I had no control over my thoughts. This was so wonderful! I had David back! Oh my god!

"Shhh," he shushed me soothingly as he moved his and my body until he held me in the same position Dean did yesterday when he was kissing me. "There's time for that later." He brought his face closer to mine.

_Oh crap…_ I thought, knowing what was coming next.

Our faces were barely two centimeters apart when he grinned mischievously.

"Don't you dare –" I tried to warn him, but it was too late, he quickly removed his arms from my back and let me fall into the sand.

_He won't get away with it this time!_ I vowed to myself, remembering all those times he had done the same thing to me. I really should have expected this of him, it is David after all. He's the type of person who never changes, and stays exactly the same from point A to point B. (Point A being birth and point B being death)

Quickly as I could I swung my legs until I kicked his ankles, since it was so unexpected he fell forwards onto me.

"Got you!" I shouted cheerfully, happy that at long last I had finally got him back.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows opening his mouth to respond.

∞∞

_Lauren_

By now I'd reached the two of them – I kicked the guy as hard as I could in the ribs (_ow, ow,_ _ow! You're not wearing shoes Lauren!_)

It still must have been hard enough –_ thank you, thank you self defense classes! _– he made an '_oomph_' sound, like all the air had left his body, and rolled off her clutching his side. I grabbed Sharika's hand and pulled her up, shoving her behind me and backing away.

"You RAPIST!!" I yelled. "Trying to attack an innocent woman on a BEACH in BROAD DAYLIGHT!! You are SICK! SICK I TELL YOU –"

"Lauren –"

"I'll tear you to shreds, you bastard – I'll –"

"LAUREN!!"

I started out of my rant and looked at Sharika – she was trying to make me let go of her arm.

"Lauren, it's David," she said, in this hushed, awed voice – staring hungrily at the guy with the same euphoric look in her eyes as there was tone in her voice. If that makes sense…in any case, she was staring at this guy as though he was a best friend come back from the dead…which, hey, he was.

Maybe I should be a little more exuberant, but I just can't seem to find my normal optimism and bounce as I looked at him too. He wasn't anything _special_. Not someone you'd suspect of faking their own death. Short black hair, tan skin, brown eyes and he was almost as tall as Sam – taller than Dean at least. Now that's a shocker. Shar, liking tall guys? _No, never_.

As he stood up, he gave Sharika a cheeky grin over my shoulder. "I'm guessing that my abuser is none other than the infamous Lauren Jessica Rose McMartin?"

Oh great, he knows more about me than I know about him.

_Wait – what exactly _does_ he know? _

This guy sent invisible spiders crawling all over my skin; and I didn't know whether it was because I just didn't like the way he was looking at Shar, the fact that he was supposed to be dead – and he very obviously wasn't (I mean, zombies have a very distinct odor, and ghosts, besides smelling strongly of ozone, do not usually hug people) – or if it was something else entirely.

Jealousy? This man had shared a part of Sharika's life that I never would – had been with her for over a year while I was in a totally different country, had been her first love, her best friend for as long as they knew each other. But I wasn't jealous of people like that, Shar was my best friend and we both had other friends that we didn't share with each other. Not many, true, but still…

I don't think I'm jealous; I've been jealous before, and not had spiders inside my skin. Then what could it be – cold? It was cold out here – the wind had sharp edges and went through my thin t-shirt and my jeans like knives. But I felt like it was coming off David, not the stormy weather.

"That would be me," I said finally, after studying him as closely as you do a bug under a microscope. Some bug. 6 foot 1, 6 foot 2? I'm just surprised he doesn't have brown hair. Now that would be fitting Shar's mould of the perfect guy exactly. "Peace out, dude. But hey, you do look like a typical rapist."

"And what does a typical rapist look like exactly?"

"Hey you! Get away from her!" Sam's voice shouted. Better late than never, I guess.

Unless your fiancé has already been beaten, raped and killed, you asshole! It all could have been done in the time you got here, but _obviously_ _you_ don't _worry_ about _things like that_, unlike _some people _who_ actually care._

I am so testy right now. I don't usually hold with violence, and now I'd found out that I'd kicked my best friend's dead best friend in the ribs (possibly breaking a couple, plus my toes) for no reason. Embarrassment much?

Ugh.

I looked over my shoulder. The guys had finally reached us, and were clutching stitches in their sides. They really need to work on running on sand – like me. But even I was better at it than they were. It must be an in built Aussie thing. Or, you know, running on beaches as a youngling had given me more practice. Either way – tsk, tsk. They looked like pansies – not the impression Sammy should be going for, seeing as how Sharika would probably appreciate whatever David has to say about him. I felt her need for his approval burn in my gut, and wished I was far away from everyone and their urges, and their emotions and their love triangles. I have enough problems of my own right now – I mean, what am I going to say to Kyle when he gets here? Let's get a soda? Ooh look, a stamp collecting store? Needless to say, I don't collect stamps.

Oh, and then there's the whole Shar's suddenly appearing out-of-the-blue supposedly dead best friend. Doesn't she find it in the least bit suspicious? Hello, who around here's on a demon hunt? And how often do they run into people they've known previously, with out it meaning something? Us, and never.

I don't believe in coincidence anymore.

"Um, David, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Sam," Sharika said, gesturing at the boys, while still staring at David with her incredulous expression in place. Mmm-hmm. How I do love the taste of cold, hard shock in the morning. I'm just glad I had time to clean my teeth after last night – otherwise, I would not be holding up as well as I am. Furry teeth Lauren's pet hate…along with anchovies and cockroaches and service people and those little umbrellas that you put in drinks and – well, the list is extensive. Let's not go into it right now; as much as I'm trying to distract myself from the current situation, and the spiders under my skin, I shouldn't miss any of this. Sharika's going to be obsessing for at least a week afterwards – and if I don't memorize every detail now, I will be in deep shitake mushrooms.

"Fiancé?" David asked, and looked at the (now not hunched over) guys. "You're engaged, to _him_?" Sharika nodded, and I got sucker punched by her sudden worry – _oh no, does David think Sam is all wrong for me? Oh dear_… How tragic. He gave her an intense look – for some reason, I was finding it really hard to read his emotions. It's like they were cloaked, or non-existent. If I concentrated I got really weak versions of emotions and urges – fuzzy and full of static in my mind, like a badly tuned radio. Then again, my powers aren't really developed at _all_, so I can't trust them. He turned back to the boys, and smiled slightly. He held out his hand to Dean and said – "You're a lucky man, Sam. Congratulations."

I had to laugh. This was the second time someone thought Shar and Dean were a couple – I mean, maybe fate is trying to give you a sign here…Kidding, kidding. The love Shar and Sam have for each other underline their every movement – I have to be careful around it, it's like a drug, a high. Scary stuff.

"That would be me," Sam said, giving David the once over, and moving to loop a proprietorial arm around Shar's waist.

Before he got there, David swooped forwards and laid one across Shar's shoulders.

_Mmm-hmmm. This does not bode well._

"How, _how_ did you explain it to your Dad?" he asked her, leading her slightly away from us. I half watched them go, and half watched Sam's reaction. It was funny.

"Why, _why_ did you fake your own death? And why did you think Dean was Sam?" Sharika replied, looking up at him. "I have so many questions –" Suddenly she remembered the rest of us, and turned her head back. "I'll see you guys later – I have to talk to David. Meet back at the motel, okay?"

We didn't really get time to answer – they swept up the beach like a plastic bag in the wind, fast, purposeful… Ooh, I'm in a descriptive mood. Beware civilians!

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I navigated it out of there, watching Sam and Dean out of the corner of my eye. They were standing in the same position they'd been in when Shar left, Sam flabbergasted and staring after her, Dean looking at the sky, bored.

**Am here – where r u? Meet at stairs 5 min. K**

"What are we supposed to do now?" Sam asked Dean. Aww… I think he's feeling bereft, no little fiancé to trail after like a lost puppy. I swear, if I ever get betrothed, and my partner starts shadowing my every move, they are so kicked. I hate to admit it, but I think Sam is pussy-whipped – alright, alright, I don't mind admitting it.

"Well, I'm going this way –" I said, pointing in the general direction of the stairs that lead back up to the street. "See ya."

"Wait, where are you off to?" Dean asked me, eyebrows raised, a dark look settling across his features. "We do have work to do you know." _God_, he looked hot like that – all broody and like a fallen angel –

"Not that it's really any of your business," I snapped, breaking my thoughts off, "but I'm taking a break. With Kyle. Without you two. Need I be anymore specific? You guys can entertain yourself, I mean, how did you do it before you knew us, oh, say, three days ago? Jeez… See you back at the motel, like Shar said. I'll catch a bus if I can't hitch a ride. Peace out." I flashed them the peace sign with my fingers, and headed back up the beach, shaking my head.

∞∞

_Sam_

"Is it just me, or do we _really_ need to get hobbies?" Dean asked me as we headed in the opposite direction to Lauren, following the route Shar and David had taken back up to the street. "I'm thinking stamp collecting for you, those little boats in bottle things for me…"

Seeing him had been a shock to me – the way Sharika had reacted, it was as though the years apart had never been. As though he hadn't faked his own death, and therefore needed to be treated with caution. What kind of person does that? And for what reasons? I'd been told about the stalker, sure, but if it had been me in that situation I'd have stayed to see it through, not run away and leave Sharika behind, grieving.

"Yeah," I muttered, shaking my head. I felt as though I had all this time on my hands, and nothing to do with it. The only thing I wanted to do was spend time with Sharika – even if everyone else has forgotten because the two of us are so well adjusted to the situation – we've only known each other a couple of days. There are so many things I still have to learn about her – still want to learn. Like, for example, her favorite colour. What she likes to do on holidays like Christmas, and Easter. She hasn't told me very much about her religion. How she likes her eggs. What her favorite flower is. (You can't automatically think that roses are every woman's fantasy come true – Jess had taught me that. She'd always said roses were lame.)

Just the little things that people in relationships learn about each other over time, time we hadn't had.

I knew the big things, and the things that she'd never told anyone. I knew if I kissed her neck on the left side, just under her ear she'd melt. I knew that she _definitely_ liked chocolate, (especially if it was slathered all over me), and how she fit just right under my arm, like she was made for it. I knew about the little mole in the centre of her foot, and that she's more ticklish on her sides. I know that if she looks straight ahead, and just mumbles "yeah" when you ask her a question, she hasn't been listening, and her mind has been on something else entirely.

But, I want to know everything. Sure, we have the rest of our lives – but that's then. _Now, _is where we are, and I want to take in every detail.

"What do you reckon Shar and David are doing?" I asked Dean, and instantly regretted it. He'd probably make some smart ass comment and –

"I don't know. What do you think Lauren and Kyle are up to?" I blinked in surprise as he asked me that. I hid my smile – I knew it, I _knew_ it. He likes her.

"I don't know." We'd reached the Impala, and were standing there, looking back at the beach. I wondered where Sharika had gone, and if I could locate her before David did something like 'fall' on top of her again. "See you later," I said, as my feet took me, of their own accord, in the direction I'd last seen the two of them heading.

"Yep," Dean said, as he started to track Lauren.

_Now, where…_

Ten seconds later we were both standing next to the Impala again. "Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head as he got the keys to the Impala out of his jeans. "It's too creepy, even for us."


	15. Speaking Of Sam, What’s He Like?

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**Speaking Of Sam, What's He Like In The Sack?**

_Don't paint the silence black now save me  
Don't leave it a day  
You got a right to stand or die so maybe  
You take chances all the same  
Pain comes in stages  
If we don't make it  
Nothing changes_

Paint the Silence - South

_Sam _

After being cooped up in the motel with Dean doing nothing for _four_ _hours_, even being on a stake out and stuck in the back of the Impala next to Lauren was better then that. We were staking out the house of the band members; seeing if anything supernatural showed up. Dean had already checked the outside of the house with the EMF reader, and none of us could agree on a plan to get inside the house to check it – so we were all just sitting here, watching it. We'd all talked about it earlier though, and had managed to agree that the band was our best lead, the only connection we really had to the demon at the moment, so that's why we were here. Shar had suggested that it might not be the band itself, but someone who worked alongside them, such as their song writer, or their manager. Unfortunately, as yet, we had no idea who they were, and this afternoon I hadn't been able to find any information through the internet. The band was local, and therefore not very well known or publicized.

"Sharika, _why_ do you get to sit in the front?!?" Lauren asked again for-the-god-knows-what-number-this-is time. I don't know how many times she needs to have it explained; I'd gotten it the first time Sharika had said, 'Because.' And the second, and the third, and the sixteenth, and the –

"Because, you have to respect your elders and keep their best interest at heart," Sharika replied from the front.

"We're all _older than you_, Sharika."

"Precisely," Sharika responded. "It's much safer to be sitting in the back, so I'm respecting my elders by sitting up here in the front, which is more dangerous and more susceptible to attack!"

"You and your twisted logic." Lauren sighed, then turned her attention to Dean. "Dean, _why_ do you get to sit in the front?"

"Because you have to respect your youngsters," he said, and I saw his grin in the rearview mirror. Sharika coughed into her hand, and the two of them looked at each other, grinned then looked out of the windshield again. "I have to protect those weaker than me, it's in my blood." They've already become good friends – and I'm glad. Despite the kiss they shared last night, I was comfortable with their relationship. Wait – _weak_?? "Plus, it's my car."

"Did you two _plan _this or something?!?!?" Lauren threw her hands up in the air and turned to look at me. "Sam, stop with the 'aww' factor, I'm trying to be exasperated here!!"

"Aww factor?" Sharika asked.

"Yes."

"Explain…?"

"Can't be bothered."

"_Lauren_," Sharika groaned. "Just _tell_ me."

"_Fine_. He was being all mush-mush because you two were being all friendliness and playful. The aww factor being the mush-mush feeling."

"Oh…okay..."

∞∞

_Lauren_

I leant back against my seat, and Sharika turned around to say something to me. A surprised expression flitted across her face, quickly to be replaced with a frustrated one. "Not _now_," she groaned.

"_Now_?" I asked, my empathy suddenly hitting me right in the middle of my forehead.

"Yes, now!" Sharika held a hand to her head. "Lauren do you have any –"

"No!!" I said, getting frustrated too. Either I was receiving all her pain or I was getting the same thing she was. "I left them all at home; I didn't think I'd need them here!"

Sharika turned to Dean, and asked him, "Dean, do you have any –"

"NO!" he interrupted with a horrified expression on his face. I stared at him, what is his glitch?

"Oh. Sam, do you have any –"

"NO! Why would _I _carry them around??"

"Oh, okay. I just thought I saw you both with some earlier." Sharika shook her head, and gulped. My head abruptly attacked me, right above the bridge of my nose. That was my body's signal, I definitely had it too now.

"Something you've been hiding from us, Sam?" Dean asked, turning to his brother with a shocked and embarrassed look. Okay – what was going on here?

"Dude, she said _both_ of us! What the hell have you been doing!?"

"Never mind. I can wait till we get back to the motel," Sharika said, and I rubbed my nose, right on its sore spot. Please, please don't turn into one of the long ones I go through sometimes…I hate it when those ones happen.

"NOT IN _MY _CAR!!" Dean kind of shouted, in this panicked voice.

"Um, what does it… matter… where she – oh!" I said, finally getting what the two of them were getting all angst about. I started laughing. "They think –" I managed to gasp out, then gestured to Shar, trying to make her see.

"Wha- oh my god! You guys are so – I only wanted a _throat lozenge_."

"Throat lozenge, cooter plugs, whatever you guys call them, _I_ wouldn't have any and I'm sure neither would Sam." Dean stated matter-of-factly.

"Cooter plugs?!?!?!" I managed to choke out in my fit of laugher. "What the hell?!?!"

"Dean…that's very strange of you…cooter plugs…I only wanted _a throat soother_ 'cause my _throat_ is sore," Sharika said, completely calm.

"Oh," Dean said, looking embarrassed.

"Cooter plugs?" Sam muttered from next to me. I shook my head, affecting a wise expression.

"We have some _throat soothers_ in the glove compartment," Dean said, and Sharika got one out for both me and her.

"Cooter," I muttered to myself, then leaned against the window, cracking up again. I then glanced from one face to the next, sensing the tense atmosphere and deciding to lighten it, in a purely Lauren-like way…

∞∞

_Sam_

"So, speaking of kissing, who's better, Sam or Dean?"

"_What_!?!" the three of us asked in unison, turning to stare at Lauren.

Sometimes when I wonder if this is real or not I remind myself of Lauren; there is not a snowball's chance in hell that I would be able to think up a character as eccentric as she was. Ever.

"I believe I was asking Shar," Lauren reiterated, pulling herself up the back of the front seating and sticking her head between Dean and Sharika, her face turned in her best friend's direction.

I looked up ahead at Dean, noticing the way he looked through the corners of his eyes so he could gaze at Lauren's back without looking like some sort of weird pervert, secretive-like so that she wouldn't notice and start teasing him. He sure was something alright… I remember for my thirteenth birthday Dean bought me a pair of sunglasses as a gift. He told me that since I was officially a teenager now I would been to start to get the proper supplies that other teen boys would need. He also said that I should start off with the sunglasses, so no one would be able to tell what I was looking at if I were to find a particular sight that happened to catch my fancy.

It didn't really make sense to me back then, but now it does. He'd given me sunglasses so I could start checking out girls, without anyone noticing._ I guess he could use his right about now,_ I thought to myself, as he eyed what he could see of Lauren, the now familiar soft, yet fiery look in his eyes. _When_ is he going to get it together? I mean, it's _Dean_. He's never been afraid of rejection. Then again – he'd never yet been rejected by someone he really wants, and it is Lauren. Who knows what she'd say or do? I felt almost sorry for him. But then I reminded myself of the time he thought that it'd be amusing to put Nair in my shampoo bottle.

"Lauren, don't give me that suspicious look!" I heard Shar say. I couldn't see her anymore, because the back of Lauren's head was blocking my view.

"What suspicious look? And don't try to change the subject!"

I heard my fiancée's sigh from the front. "It was just a stage kiss!" Sharika exclaimed. "They'd both have to kiss me properly for me to be able to make a comparison."

"Wait, what?" Dean asked from in front of me. He shifted in his seat to look at her and away from Lauren's back. "I _was_ kissing you properly."

_What…so…my brother was tonguing my fiancé…!_ I thought it was just a stage kiss, from Sharika's disregarding reaction towards it. A simple peck on the lips would have been forgotten in a few hours, but a passionate kiss! I'm going to kill him! Just because he is my brother doesn't mean that I won't hurt him! One day…one day….It's not too late to get Lauren to pull off the hand-in-the-warm-water-whilst-sleeping prank, is it?

"I couldn't pay attention to it though – I was submerged in this really intense feeling, I can't describe it."

All thoughts of my brother sticking his tongue down Sharika's throat instantly flew from my mind at that sentence as my protective instincts over Shar came into play. _What intense feeling?_ She didn't tell me anything about it after the party, but then again she had other things on her mind. I didn't like the general direction this was heading towards. I'd like to think that what ever it was, it was caused by her repulsion to Dean's lips on hers, but my experiences in this line of work taught me otherwise. Then again, I could be over-analyzing this. I didn't even know what kind of feeling it was, but I still couldn't help but feel worried.

"Right…" Lauren said, nodding and looking away from Sharika to gaze out the windshield. "Helpful. Now, do me a favor and just think back to how that 'intense feeling' felt, will you?" She then placed her hand on the top of Sharika's head and rubbed it in a circular motion, her eyes closed. Sharika's hair was starting to stick up, due to this.

Suddenly Lauren shot backwards on the seat, hugging her stomach and shivering. _What the – _

"Pure evil, _pure evil_!! I'm never kissing you again!" she pointed a finger at Dean, then commenced in rubbing her shoulders with her hands, muttering, "How you could keep something like _that_ a secret…Ugh, ugh, ugh!" She shuddered all over, then pulled her knees up against her body, leaning away from everyone, and against the door of the Impala.

Now I was _definitely_ worried. I know Lauren tends to over-react but she wouldn't make this big of a fuss over something small unless it really was significant.

_Pure evil…?_

"It wasn't a secret and it wasn't all – and besides, didn't you feel the happiness at the end, even with the intense hollowness and barrenness, you could still feel some remnants of human emotion, couldn't you?" Sharika said as her hands were working on the top of her head to smooth down her hair. _Remnants of human_…

This sounds familiar, I've had experience in this area – a few people that we've helped in our dad's field of work told us about this feeling when they were connecting with a demon, or worse. From what I knew it had to be a half demon, or someone tainted by demons, it couldn't be a complete demon, they have no human feelings. The two feelings are distinguishable from each other. This would mean that Sharika was connected to a demon! She's in more danger then I initially thought!

How could she not tell me? Why did she wait until now to tell us?!? Doesn't she know how dangerous this could be!?! How dangerous this is!?!?

First we need to establish exactly what kind of feeling it was, from that we can deduce whether or not this is related anything back to demons. It could be a coincidence, but it's us, coincidences don't happen to people like us, everything has a reason behind it.

"Mmmm, ye-_NO_! It was evil. _Evil_. Comprende? I'm an empath, and the one thing I do understand in the fucked up world of human emotion, is that feeling, whatever scrap of humanity may be left, is _bad_, and whatever you were latching onto there was a _demon_." She moved her hands up and down in front of her face in a parody of animal claws, then went back to hugging herself, her eyes worried as she looked at Shar.

There had to be a base to the connection, the demon nor the human could choose to connect like that. There had to be an underlying reason as to why they could connect to each other. The connection didn't have to be a physical one, it could be an emotionally or mentally. Or it even might be powers, both have powers that counterpart each other. Both have to have a strong thing in common, something that both parties share. This connection is something my future wife is feeling! This isn't good, at all. I have to keep her safe from which ever psycho demon was out to get her. It's my responsibility to.

"No! There was – it was – there was happiness in it, and nostalgia. Demons do not know these feelings, they can't feel happiness and nostalgia – they can only feel umm…I don't know what they can feel but there is no way they could feel any human emotion at all, it was, uh, I can't explain it. Anyway, there was definite happiness and nostalgia why couldn't you feel that? It was contrasting with the hollowness so much?!" Sharika huffed and slid down in her seat in frustration.

"Shar-" I started to say but I was cut off by Dean. I knew his quiet before now couldn't have been a good sign. When he gets silent like that, he's usually trying to contain his anger.

"Why didn't you tell us about this yesterday?!" Dean asked her in his aggravated voice. "Do you realize how dangerous this could have been for you? I mean, I couldn't feel anything, neither did Sam or Lauren, and she's an _empath_!"

Dean was now mad at her, as was I. Except I was more worried then I was mad. This is the love of my life. I can't let anything harm her. If I did…I'd never forgive myself.

"Lauren was _drunk_! All she could feel was alcohol in her blood," Sharika replied angrily.

"Hey!" Lauren tried to interject, but she was ignored.

"Drunk or not, she would have felt it if it was as intense as you say it was. You do understand that this means you're closely connected to a _demon_? And while we're in the middle of looking for our dad." He glared at her, then added as an afterthought – "And _your_ friends."

"Demon? I had no idea what this feeling was! It could've been – oh, I don't know, I just didn't think –"

"Of course you didn't think. Next time though, I'd appreciate it if you would stoop to informing us of what's going on with you," Dean interrupted in his most sarcastic voice. The two of them glared at each other, neither backing down. Maybe I should –

"Oh my god!" Lauren suddenly shouted, she glared at the three of us.

"What?" Shar asked, throwing up her hands, exasperated and no doubt expecting a lecture from Lauren as well.

"That old man just kicked a cat!" What the –

"That is not important right now," Dean said, glaring straight back at her. He then turned back to Sharika and continued. "You pressure us into telling you everything we know, and end up keeping things to yourself. That's hypocritical, and –"

"Hello?! Old man, cat!" Lauren reiterated. Jabbing her finger at the window.

"So?" I asked, and raised my eyebrows at her, shaking my head slightly and eying her strangely. We _did_ have bigger things then animal cruelty to worry about right now. My eyes went back to the front, where Sharika and Dean were still fuming at each other, the tension in the car almost palpable.

"Well I didn't think it was important, how was I supposed to know it was connected to a demon?"

"That's why you tell us," Dean patronized, raising his eyebrows and adding a sarcastic smile to the end.

"Man! Cat! _Kicked_!"

"Ok, fine, you want to know about it?" Sharika asked and then continued without waiting for an answer. "It felt familiar."

"WHAT!?!" I yelled from the back seat. This was getting worse and worse, if the feeling felt familiar it meant either she has felt it before, meaning that the demon is tailing her, following her every move and even recording it, but even that is preferable to the second option. If this was the first time she felt it, then it means the demon and herself have a really strong bond. Please let it be the first option! If it was the second one then God help us…"How many –"

"No," Sharika interrupted me, obviously knowing what I was just about to ask her. "That was the first time I ever felt anything like _that_. I meant the sentiments at the end, it was – it made me feel secure and safe. Almost like I was drowning but I knew that someone was going to save me at the last moment or something," she sighed. "It's hard to explain, the emotion, no matter how small it was, it was something I was used to and even expected. Do you understand me?"

Dean and I both shook our heads. But we both knew it was serious, what scared me the most wasn't that it was the first time, or that it even felt familiar, it was the fact that she felt safe and secure. I don't even know what that mean, but the demon sending her that feeling had a hell of a strong bond with my fiancé.

"CAT, DAMN YOU! DE-" Lauren once again tried to interrupt, Jesus! Didn't she realize that no one cares right now considering the situation at hand?

"So you knew the sentiments at the end, even though there was this extreme void?" I tried to follow her stream of thought. I was trying to act calm and not give way to what I was really thinking. Maybe we're just having a communication problem and that I do not understand what she was really trying to say.

"I knew them and expected them, it's strange," she said, now looking less mad then she had a moment before. "I think it was connected to that man I saw, just before you kissed me."

"There was a man! _WHY_ didn't you _TELL_ us?" Dean shouted at her before I had a chance to do the same. Sharika didn't even flinch.

"No, maybe, he seemed familiar too, but it could have just been some guy who I knew from the Dome. It could have no connection what-so-ever to that feeling." Sharika told us.

I frowned, as I said coincidences don't happen to people like us. I don't know why but my gut instinct told me that it had something to do with the Demon we were all after, just like my gut instinct told me there was something strange going on when Meg returned. I trusted that hunch and acted upon it, and I was right about it. Out of all of us why her? I mean what made her so different? Why was there a connection with her and a demon and not anyone else in this group?

_It's because she's the most powerful one out of all of us._ My brain told me. That was true, she was even more powerful then me. But there had to be an underlying connection that created this bond. It could be because the Demon was just as powerful as Shar. This isn't good, to have a demon, equally matched to Sharika, connecting with her.

"ARRGH!" Lauren shouted, and opened her door. "I give up! I'll go after the stupid demon by myself!" Wha…. She removed a gun from inside her jacket and glared at all of us, as we stared at her. Why hadn't she mentioned a demon before?

"Lauren –" Sharika started to say, but she just stalked off down the alleyway next to the band's house, holding the gun to her side with a practiced air. I heard her muttering 'never, ever _listen'_ as she went. "We should follow her before she manages to kill herself," Sharika sighed, and Dean and I shared a worried look, both of us suspecting the same things, as she got out on her side of the car. We would continue this conversation later. We had to, for Sharika's safety.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I can't believe them! They never listen to me, never, ever, ever. I try to tell them that, HELLO???, a demon was just outside our door, kicking cats and stalking some innocent person, but do they take any notice of me?

No. Lauren is not _worth_ paying attention to.

_God_.

I held the gun in front of me, sweeping it around the alley in the time honored tradition of police and secret agents, my eyes searching the darkness for the evil that was clogging my throat.

"Do you need any help, little girl?" I heard from over my shoulder. The evil pressed upon me, smothering me in its cold heaviness, and I knew immediately that it came from the voice._ I'd let it sneak up on me…_

Suppressing my shudder I turned around and smiled innocently. "Why yes, I think something's clogging my gun. Will you take a look for me?" I leveled the gun at the demon's forehead.

It never fails to surprise me, the different guises they take on. This guy could pass for a Santa Claus that went on the Subway diet – I mean, he looked _jolly_. If it wasn't for his totally black eyes and my powers, I'd have tried helping him across the road or something.

Over his shoulder I saw the group running towards us. Dean was shouting something, "– mental institute!"

_The – _

Suddenly the gun was knocked out of my hand, and a fist slammed against the side of my head. I fell to the left, and anticipating a follow up attack, I rolled to the side, ending up behind a huge garbage bin.

_Without_ my gun.

"Damn you Dean!" I hissed, feeling blood trickle down the right side of my face. The skin on my elbows was scraped and bloody also, and I had rolled in something disgusting on the ground. I'd also managed to hit my head on the ground when I'd fallen on it, all because he had the gall to –

I heard the muffled thumps of combat, and stuck my head around the bin, to see what was happening. Dean and Sam were fighting the demon, their faces screwed up with effort. Dean was trying to distract the demon so Sam would have the time to perform his exorcism, but they were failing – Dean was getting punched all over, and yet the demon still managed to knock the journal out of Sam's hands, sending it spinning down the alley.

All the while, Sharika was calmly walking up to the battle, her body posture relaxed, as though she was taking a leisurely walk in the park.

Just because she could deflect bullets, and energy balls, and whatever, doesn't mean she has to be so smug all the time. Arrgh – _smug_.

She made it all the way up to about three feet away from the demon, when it suddenly threw Dean away from him, in the general direction I'd seen the journal go. Good, now he can go collect it while Shar deals with –

"No!" Sam shouted, and dove towards Sharika as she and the demon made eye contact. _Oh my god._ I have never actually seen anyone do this, outside the movies. I mean, _what the hell?_

He forced his body between the two of them, and the force of his momentum caused Sharika to end up just in front of me.

I waved cheerfully at her, and she got up and came behind the bin with me. "What the hell was that?" she asked me, shaking her head in Sam's direction. "I was just about to blow up the demon. I mean, I was going to do it before, but Dean was practically on top of him and I could have hurt Dean, so –"

"And _no one_ wants that to happen." I coughed innocently, gingerly feeling the egg-sized lump on the back of my skull._ I'd get him back later_. "This is interesting, watching them hunt. Ooh, look, they have the journal back." I watched it all as though it was my favorite TV series, and the boys were the handsome heroes, protecting the innocents. (That would be us, hiding conveniently out of the way behind a bin.)

"Yeah, so since I was pushed savagely to the side, how's life? We haven't talked properly in ages."

"Can't complain. Speaking of Sam, what's he like in the sack?"

∞∞

_Sharika_

"LAUREN!" I shouted in surprise, how could she ask me something like that? And of all the times she could have asked me she chose to do it now?!? Honestly, sometimes I can't believe her, I mean seriously! "I-"

Suddenly Sam landed right in front of us, he was breathing heavily, lower lip busted with a thin stream of blood trickling down his chin. Poor Sam, he must have gotten that because of me. He was only being protective of me. As unnecessary as it was, it was still sweet. I'm so not used to this, someone loving me like this. It's so new, so exciting, but it didn't scare me, not a bit, not at all.

My plan was to walk up to the demon, make sure that Sam and Dean were both out of the way and then blow the demon up using my powers. He looked like a low level demon, so I could easily combust him. Although my powers were quite advanced and strong it depended on the demon's level on if I could kill it or only cause bodily harm to it. All the demons I've met so far were usually low to upper medium level. I could vanquish them easily without effort. But the few high level demons I've met required a potion to be made or sometimes a spell. I could only scar them with my powers, not hurt them so much that they couldn't move. It varied demon to demon though, some needed for me to acquire a certain item to vanquish it.

"Sam," I said in soft tones as I reached out and ran my thumb over his busted lower lip, removing some of the blood there. I then proceeded to wipe the blood running down his chin tenderly with my palm.

Our eyes met and we shared a smile for a moment, my hand still at the side of his face.

Lauren interrupted us with a "Not now Sammy, _girl talk time_!"

She unexpectedly grabbed my forearm and swung it out in front of Sam's chest, causing him to fly through the air and land in a big dumpster.

"SAM!" I shouted in worriedly. Oh my god! Is he ok? I started to get up but Lauren grasped the back of my shirt and pulled me back down. I fell back onto the cement with a plop.

"He's fine, so answer my question. _How is yeti boy in bed_?" she asked grinning at me.

"I am NOT going to answer that question!" I replied indignantly. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked determinedly out in front of me, ignoring Lauren to the best of my abilities. This was hard considering how she was sitting right beside me.

To be honest, when Sam and I were together, it was unbelievable. It was amazing. I had no description that would do that intimate act between Sam and me, justice.

"Why _not_?" she complained. "Unless…you're forcing me to draw my own conclusions about why you won't tell me." She waggled her eyebrows up and down, then sighed and affected a mournful expression, looking over at Sam. "Disappointing really, he looks as though he'd be a _stallion_. Too bad."

She was just trying to bait me, it was obvious. She's been doing it to me almost ever since I met her. I've managed to make my way around her baits.

"LAUREN!" I yelled again for the second time in the past few minutes. Okay, I hadn't really. She still managed to get to me. "No, I'm not going to tell you, it's a private, _intimate_ thing shared between two people."

"Oh come on, I'm sure Sam has told _Dean _all about it," she tried to persuade me.

An uneasy pang hit my stomach at the thought. No, he wouldn't have. I mean, Dean didn't even know how Sam proposed so how would he know how I'd be in the sack, as Lauren put it.

I wonder how I was…Oh great, now she's got me thinking about how I…_performed_. I was inexperienced, no clue to what to do at all, and he was a man of reasonable experience in this area. What if I was crap!?! How would I ever know, it's not like Sam would ever tell me?

"Sam wouldn't have told Dean about it," I decided, not believing in it a hundred and one percent, but wishing I did. I didn't have _any_ experience in this area.

He wouldn't have told Dean. He doesn't kiss and tell. No way, I don't want people to know about how I perform in that certain activity. Think about it, if Sam actually said I was good it would raise questions about how I could do so well considering how I had NO EXPERIENCE AT ALL! And if I was crap…I don't even want to think about it.

"Uh Sharika, they are _guys_. All they do is talk about their sex lives." She shook her head at me and forced an expression of mock disapproval.

Thanks for that Lauren, a real shout of support you're sending me right now. Helping me when I'm down…

"Sam wouldn't, anyway, why do you care?" I asked, hoping to get off the subject. I wanted to stop myself from thinking about _that_. There's no point in obsessing about it, because I wouldn't get my answers anyway, it's not like I could go up to Sam and ask. He wouldn't tell me that I was crap, _if_ I was…

"I'm trying to live vicariously through you, why else?"

"Live vicariously through Dean. I'm sure he gets laid enough for the four of us." That I definitely knew to be true. A thought suddenly entered my mind on how I could deter her from this subject. "Or just do it with him. Everyone knows you want to. I can hear your libido yearning for him even now."

Lauren looked at me as though I was crazy, then purposefully ignored my obvious ploy. "Oh, come on, Shar. I'm your best friend. If you can't talk to me about it, who can you talk about it to?"

"No-one and I plan to discuss this with no one."

"Sharika, it is an important event in a woman's life! You _have_ to tell me. I'd tell you – to show how much I trust you. So how big is he? Did you guys spoon afterwards?" She put on her serious face and looked directly into my eyes. "Did he go down –?"

OH MY GOD! HOW COULD SHE ASK _THAT_ WITH A SERIOUS FACE?!?! There's a limit! And she has surpassed that limit with that one question!

I don't have to sit here and listen to this. I'm going to go kill the demon regardless of whoever is close to it.

"Screw this!" I stood up, and Lauren stood up next to me, not planning to let me get away, but starting to laugh none-the-less. I swear –

We saw the two guys, Dean sitting on top of the demon, dousing him with holy water. Sam was next to him (he obviously jumped out of the dumpster and had run towards Dean to help by that point) chanting in Latin as fast as he could.

I glared straight at the demon and lifted my arms, flicking my hands towards it (I don't need to do this, but I had to do something to relieve my frustration), causing it to spontaneously combust, and Dean to fall flat on his face in a pile of demon blood.

I couldn't help but feel that slightest bit elated, after how he had treated me in the car. But then again, it was my fault. I should have told them about that feeling, who knows how dangerous this connection could be? What if that demon was following us and watching our every move? And why would it choose me to connect with? It would have been more convenient for it to connect with Lauren, then we would have passed it off as her powers going on the fritz again. I have to ask Dean and Sam, or someone else with a better then general knowledge of the supernatural.

From my side I heard Lauren ask, "You do realize I'm going to ask you in front of them now?"

"Yeah, right," I said, disbelieving her. She'd probably forget about it until we were alone again. To say she didn't have the best memory would be a major understatement.

Lauren and I headed for the Impala, not waiting for the guys to catch up.

"I really am going to do it you know," she told me.

"Sure you will," I patronized her. "Sure you will." We opened the respective doors to the places we were sitting in earlier and slid inside, closing the doors behind us.

"Man, that bastard was one tough bitch!" Dean swore, looking proud as he and Sam got into the car, closing their doors in unison.

I looked back at Lauren and exchanged expressions which conveyed 'That was freaky,' which it was. I shook my head, coincidence, it wouldn't happen again anyways. I mean, it's not like they closed their doors at the exact same time every time they closed doors –

"YOU!?!" Lauren laughed from the backseat. "It was all my doing! If I hadn't made Sharika frustrated she wouldn't have blown up the demon." She grinned at Dean, almost as if she was showing off _her_ accomplishment.

I didn't bother saying anything, no point in it. She was only joking. She knew that it was me who deserved all the credit for vanquishing that demon.

Dean turned the keys in the ignition and began to drive the car away from in front of the band's house.

"We still have to see what the band does tomorrow," I said, mentally recapping what I've learnt form this whole experience. "But I think we can safely say that it wasn't the band the informant was referring to. We have to do research on them, find out who works with them and was also at the party last night."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"By the way," Lauren said, poking Sam in the side. "What the hell was that whole diving heroically in front of Sharika thing? It was totally pointless."

"The demon was going to attack her, I saved Shar's life," Sam replied, looking at Lauren in disbelief and confusion.

"What do you think she is? A princess thing, a porcelain doll that you need to save every time she breaks a nail? She can take care of herself in a fight, or had you forgotten?"

Lauren has seen me protect myself; she knows I can do it well. Besides my powers, both of us have been taking classes which would help us if we ever encountered and aggressive attack with normal humans and were unable to use them.

"I know she can take care of herself, but that won't stop me from wanting to keep her safe," Sam responded. I felt like hugging him, I love him so much! "It's part of my nature and my natural inclination. I don't want her to get hurt."

I couldn't help but feel happy. He really did love me, didn't he? I found it hard to believe sometimes, I mean, _why_ would anyone love _me_? Other then my powers there's nothing special about me that attracted anyone's attention. There were so many things that set Sam apart from the others, but I'm just a faceless person in the crowd. Nothing unique about me. Simply a person who was trying to make her way into the world.

As cynical as I could be, I knew for sure that Sam didn't love me for my powers. He didn't want me so he could play the hero every time I got into trouble, so he could have someone to take care of. He just wanted me, as I am.

"So the ego boost has nothing to do with it, plus the gratitude?" she wanted to know. She adopted a high, preachy voice and said, "You're such a saint Sam, such a saint. You make us mere mortals feel," she paused. "Selfish."

Sam laughed in the cute way he does and shook his head. "Get over it already."

I looked over at Dean; he still looked upset, most likely at me from keeping that feeling to myself. _I hope he forgives me soon…_

"So Sharika," Lauren said as she drew herself right behind me and placed her elbows on the back of the seat. She put her chin in her hands and grinned at me innocently, cocking her head to the side.

I didn't understand what she was getting at for a moment, until she flicked her head casually at Sam, then leant even further forwards, arranging herself so she could get comfortable. She grinned at me again, and suddenly I realised –

Oh no, NO!

She's actually going to do it! CRAP!

_I should NOT have patronized her earlier –_

_I should have KNOWN _–

"Has Sam made you orgasm yet?"

∞∞

_Dean_

"Has Sam made you orgasm yet?" Lauren's question echoed around and around in my head. I trod on the brake, swerving onto the side of the road and making everyone jerk forwards in their seat.

She has that effect on people, even when she's drunk out of her head and unconscious.

I turned in my seat to gape at the two girls, seeing Sharika staring Lauren, horrified, and Lauren grinning back at her as though nothing were wrong.

I glanced at Sam, using the rearview mirror. He looked curious despite himself.

_Well, well._ I'm glad someone has finally had the daring to ask. I hid my grin and posed as Lauren was, one elbow on the back of my seat and chin in that hand. "Yeah, Sharika. Has he?"

"I'm not telling you!" she said in a high squeaky voice.

"Oh, get real Shar. If you can't tell us, who can you tell?" Lauren asked.

"Look –" Sam started, obviously deciding to stick up for his fiancé despite his own curiosity.

"Me, myself and I," Sharika interrupted.

"Well, you can tell Sam, Dean and I too. It's only three more people." Lauren grinned at me, and then turned back to Sharika. "What happens in the Impala, stays in the Impala."

"That's Mexico!" Sharika said, pointing her finger in Lauren's face. They both gave each other a look, and Lauren shivered. Sharika muttered, "Ugh," and did likewise.

What the hell? "What happened in Mexico?"

"Never mind that now, you're not old enough. Wait until you're older. Anyways –"

"I'm older than all of you!" I butted in, confused. And I was. Older than Sam by four years, older than the girls by at least five or six –

"Later, now Sharika…" Lauren said and gave Sharika her innocent grin. You'd fall for it if you didn't look into her eyes. When you did, you realized immediately that she had mischievous intentions.

"Sam!" Sharika cried desperately, begging him with her eyes. This was fun, almost like a mini drama series, and all in the Impala. Tales of the Impala…sounds good to me.

"Uh, yeah. Hey guys, stop interrogating her. You're making her feel uncomf-"

"Oh, shut up Sam. _Empath_, hello? I know you want to know."

Sam shut up. He shrugged helplessly, looking at Sharika and grinning apologetically.

"I'm not going to tell anyone!" she said, sitting up straight and looking out of the windshield. I smiled to myself – the embarrassment was getting to her, you could tell by her flushed cheeks. It was justice, in a way. What was coming to her for keeping that demon connection a secret from us.

"Stuff this," Lauren said, and laid her hands on Sharika's head. "Think back…"

After a while she took her hands off Sharika's hair and sat back in her seat. Sam and I looked at her, waiting for an answer. She looked up at me, and then glanced at Sam. Suddenly she started laughing and pointed at him.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," I said, and shook my head, stepping on the pedal again. See, I knew Sam should have hooked up with chicks before this. Imagine not being able to satisfy the woman you're in love with, _especially_ an inexperienced virgin. Sam looked ashamed as he gazed out the window and I looked at him through the rearview mirror again, half sympathetic, half not knowing what to feel. "See, Sammy. You should have followed my example. Then you wouldn't be in this…situation."

"Why are you laughing?" Sharika asked, her confusion evident in her voice. She shook her head at Lauren, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh you guys think –" Lauren laughed even harder. "No, no. I just noticed Sam has a – Sam has a –" she giggled uncontrollably and pointed to her cheek, where Sam's mole was situated.

I nodded, weirded out. "Okay then," I mouthed to myself, and pulled over again. "We're not moving until you tell us, Sharika," I said out loud, determined that she should get what was coming to her from not telling us about the feeling. It was only fair.

"Fine then! We'll just have to live here!" Sharika said. "And can you bear it, because Lauren's going to need cooter plugs in like a few days, and doesn't the thought of her, dripping all over your upholstery, in desperate need of cooter plugs, and not getting any, or being able to save your car seats, just because you want me to answer a stupid question that doesn't even matter and you don't even care about?! And if you do, that's just strange."

"Yeah, he's your brother dude," Lauren said, and gave me a look, like I was the one who'd originally asked the question.

"We're not moving," I reiterated, swallowing, at the very idea of – well, you heard. But I knew Sharika would cave in, so it wouldn't be happening in this lifetime.

"We can't live here! My feet are cold and they want to go home! I can't disobey my feet! They'll hurt me!" Oookay… A moment of awkward silence passed as everyone in the car took in Lauren's statement. It was only broken by Lauren sighing, exasperated and then suddenly caroling – "I'll move us!" and hopping over the divide.

She removed my hands from the wheel, and before I could protest (not very hard, but still…) she sat on my lap, and reached her foot towards the pedal.

"Uh…" I said, staring at the back of her head. Her hair was tickling my face. And I just noticed – she has a wound on the back of her head; it was bleeding. Somehow she still managed to smell like baby powder and roses. Was it her? Was it her clothes? Why did I care? "Why aren't we moving?"

"This is…all part of…my plan…I CAN'T REACH THE DAMN PEDAL!!"

I laughed. "Shortie." I pushed her off my lap, and she fell on top of Sharika, who shook her head and got into the back of the Impala with Sam.

Another moment of silence passed, broken again by Lauren who said, "Just tell them Sharika. It's not like its embarrassing or anything."

Sharika exhaled angrily and stared out her side window. "Fine," she agreed at last, realizing she had no other choice. "He did," she muttered, her tone so low you could barely hear her.

I decided not to be mad at her anymore – as long as she shared all the demon stuff next time. She's been through enough now.

I started the car up again, listening to its happy purr, and looked back at Sammy. He looked a lot more cheerful than he had moments before, now that the whole issue had been cleared up. Of course, Sharika might have had more fun tonight if she hadn't said yes…but hey, their problem.

I watched the road ahead of me, it was mostly clear this time of the morning, about three am or so.

"So," Lauren's voice cut through the silence. She was looking ahead at the road too. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and I saw the dimple jump in her cheek. "How big is Sam's penis?"


	16. Was It Worth It?

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**Was It Worth It?**

_  
I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
Become so tired so much more aware  
I'm becoming this all I want to do  
Is be more like me and be less like you_

Numb – Linkin Park

_Lauren_

After we came home last night, we all talked about Sharika's connection to the Demon, and came up with squat. None of us had any idea to what this feeling meant. Shar seemed to think that the person who gave her that feeling meant her no harm, or cared for her. She said that she even felt love for her, not romantic love, and even care for her. Dean, Sam and I had no idea what to make of this and in the end we all decided to be more cautious in our mission, especially Sharika.

"_Where is it?? Where is it?!?_" my voice came out in a panicked, whispered scream. "_Where is it?? I need my first date sweater for my date with Kyle!!_"

Yesterday I'd had so much fun with him – I was freer, less constrained than I'd been in a long while. I hadn't needed to hold my feelings in, my laughter. Yesterday I was allowed to be happy, and not think about the demon or Fiona and Joyee – even if it was only for a few hours. We'd done the whole stormy beach scene, running through the surf, splashing each other, collecting sea shells, walking next to the waves and talking.

He was so different to Dean, and Sam, and even Sharika. He made me feel peaceful almost.

The date had ended when we were cold, shivering but still teasing each other and laughing. Outside the motel he'd asked me, did I want to go out again today? Well, his exact words were, "Get lunch with me tomorrow. I don't trust that stoner you were with the other night to look after you properly." I assumed 'the stoner' was Dean, and decided not to correct him.

And now I couldn't find my first date sweater! It was a TRADITION for me; I wore that sweater on all my first dates, and this was no different.

Even though it was only a friend's thing. I mean, he'd made no move on me yesterday, or the night at the bar, and I think he thought Dean and I were…a couple. Ugh, like THAT will ever happen. Besides, I just don't like him like that. He was attractive, funny, smart, interesting, had a hot ass, and I still wasn't interested. There was just something…missing.

"Lauren, calm down, it's only a sweater," Sharika repeated for about the fifteen millionth time. I didn't listen to her.

"_It's_ _not_ _just a sweater! It's my sweater, the sweater that my grandma knitted me! The one she made to make up with me over that big fight we had at Christmas, over whether or not my Hawaiian salad was good enough, and whether I'd put in _exactly_ two cups of shredded coconut or not!" _

That was a bad fight, as innocuous and unimportant as it may seem to anyone outside the two of us – my little nana and I were too alike in some ways, in others we were opposite – she was so strict and closed minded in her beliefs, while I was always willing to be persuaded and listen, was open minded about most things.

But we'd made up in the end. She'd made me this sweater, and I'd let her stand over me like a hawk while I cooked. I was just thankful that I hadn't had to cook anything in a pan that day – we all know what that would have meant.

I shifted through the stuff on the table, looking under all the crap piled on it. My shirt that I wore yesterday, Dean's keys, my gun that Dean had given back to me last night – it all went over my shoulder.

I knew Sharika had ducked, and I didn't have to worry about Sam or Dean; they'd taken cover behind the couch half an hour ago. They've been bitching about me and my now obsessive behavior for the whole time, bastards.

"_WHERE IS IT!?!?_" I'd already looked in all my suitcases, in the bathroom, in Sharika and Sam's motel room, under the bed, under the couch, in the draws in the kitchen –

I was throwing things over my shoulder, in my desperate attempt to locate my sweater, again. And now I'd gotten to where I kept all my writing, my books and our stationary. I'd avoided until now, because I knew what kind of mood I was in, and I didn't want to wreck it all; but now I just couldn't care.

"Lauren, it's not even your first date, you've already had your first date."

"It's the first _planned_ date!!" I shouted, and threw my huge folder of teaching material over my shoulder. I heard Sharika scream. But I didn't worry; I knew she could have easily avoided that item.

"FOUND IT!" I cried out as my eyes finally greeted the sight of the creamy white, loosely knitted sweater. I grabbed it and lifted it triumphantly over my head and spun around to face Sharika just so I could tell her I wasn't crazy. I KNEW I brought it over with me on this trip! I mean, demon hunting, shmemon hunting. First dates were still possible…

My eyes searched the room for the familiar bob of black hair arising from behind a cushion. She'd just be telling me off, not elated that, hey! I'd found the damn thing.

Sam and Dean got up from behind the couch, and we all looked at each other, and then around the room.

Sharika was gone.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I saw the folder flying towards my head and flinched while I covered my head with my arms and then ducked as I let a scream loose from my lips.

_You're gonna get hit!!!_ Alarm bells in my head went off loudly.

I closed my eyes and desperately hoped to somehow get out of the way. A funny sensation started up at my head and worked its way down to my legs, it was almost as if I was fading away. All sound, all physical feelings quickly and methodically swept away.

A few moments passed as nothing happened.

I cautiously drew one eye open, expecting to see the folder laying at my feet and Lauren still rummaging through her belongings, and hearing Sam and Dean unsuccessfully stifling their laughter at my unnecessary reaction.

Instead I saw nothing, just total darkness.

I opened my other eye and removed my hands from my head, simply letting them hang by my sides. I turned around, searching for light but found that it was the same everywhere. Just complete darkness, it's almost like an abyss. It probably was an abyss. I drew in a sharp breath.

Even the air was suffocating and thick, hard to swallow.

_How the hell did I get here?_ I thought to myself. _Is this where people go, how they feel when they're unconscious? _

I opened my mouth and shouted "Hello? Guys?" But it was swallowed up by the darkness. I could talk but no one would be able to hear me, where ever I was.

My mind immediately reverted back to the feeling I received when David 'died'. It was the same fading away sensation that flowed through out my body.

So what was this? A new power? Teleportation?

A sudden shiver went down my spine as I hugged myself, trying to create warmth in this void.

_I don't care, I just want to get the hell out of here and go home!_ My mind yelled at me.

Home…a twinge of sadness hit my stomach as yet once again my body felt as though I was fading away.

This time I landed in familiar surroundings. I turned around three hundred and sixty degree's, disbelieving of my current location.

It couldn't – it was ridiculous –

The posters that were hung on the wall, the white desk with the pink handles, the closet with a large mirror stuck to one door, the computer and even the TV…

I instantly knew where I was…

My bedroom at home, Sydney, Australia!

∞∞

_Dean_

"Shar?" Sam asked when we heard her yell. "Sharika?" I wondered if Lauren's flying objects had made their mark.

Sam and I stood up, getting ready to see an unconscious Sharika on the floor and a sheepish Lauren standing over her, holding whatever sweater she'd been yelling about. First date sweater? I mean, was this a normal thing that chicks went through and did?

I looked around the room, on the floor and even up at the ceiling (hey, the girl can float!). She was nowhere to be found. She's probably playing a prank on us…right?

"Sharika?" I asked just to be sure, I mean it was out of her character to do something like this. But who knows, people do surprise you. "Sharika come out, it's not funny."

No answer.

I looked up at Lauren and our eyes connected.

"Where is she?" I heard Sam ask form the left of me. I could hear the panic start to rise in his voice.

Lauren began to shiver. "I don't know…I can't – I can't feel her." Her chest started to rise in fall sharply, and she pressed a hand to it, closing her eyes.

WHAT!?!? Oh fuck! Sharika's gone missing… I closed my eyes too, and rubbed my temples with my fingers. This _cannot_ be happening… I opened my eyes and gave Lauren the once over – she breathed deeply then squared her shoulders, and looked back at me, biting her lower lip.

"Did you at least see what happened to her or were you _too busy_ -" Sam started to ask, a strain rising in his voice and his nostrils flaring. This is just one of the signs that he's starting to let his emotions get the better of him.

Not that I could blame him, I'd be pissed off to. Hell if it was me, I'd probably be slamming Lauren into a wall pressing her angrily for answers. Not that it would help anything, the way she was looking now, like a child cornered by a wild dog. She'd probably cry, the way she looked right now – then again, knowing her, she'd slam me back.

"Did you see what happened to her?" I interrupted Sam, averting a fight that an idiot knew would have resulted if he had finished asking his question.

We didn't need any displaced anger here now. Well, it wasn't entirely displaced but to know what happened to Sharika we had to stay calm and rational.

Lauren looked blank as she shook her head. "I – you know – looking – sweater. I was facing the other way. What – what could have happened to her?"

I looked the other way, considering the possibilities, a slight frown appearing between my eyebrows.

She could still be in the room, maybe unconscious or perfectly able to answer back but she's just in hiding. As much as I doubt that, it's still a possibility. But Lauren would have been able to sense her here.

She could have teleported or something; it's not an uncommon, well, at least an unknown power. But it couldn't be that, she would've already known about it and be standing here with us about now coming back from wherever she'd gone. Unless the power just grew or her powers suddenly advanced, but that couldn't be it, she would have had a basic knowledge of that power, and Sam would have already thought of it.

My mind drew me to the most likely conclusion – that she was kidnapped by a demon. While Sam and I were avoiding Lauren and she was busy, the Demon, or one of his minions came and took Sharika. That thought caused an uneasy feeling to settle in the pit of my stomach. A demon that was able to kidnap someone as powerful as Sharika, that's going to be more than tough to get rid of. Damn near impossible, even.

My eyes shifted worriedly towards Sam, who stood there, probably going through the same thought process I was. And, unfortunately, reaching the same conclusion.

"This is all your fault!" Sam said, his shoulders shaking in anger. "You had to look for your stupid sweater, something you could have lived without, and just because of that Sharika has gone missing. I hope it was fucking worth it! Is it?"

"Sam," I started to warn him. I had seen Lauren's pupils dilating in her fear for Sharika's safety, even from the other side of the room. She didn't really deserve to be –

"You're acting like this is my fault! Do you think I _wanted _Sharika to go missing? She's my best friend you asshole! Practically my family."

"Lauren –" I started again.

"It _is _your fault! If you hadn't been throwing stuff around, we would have been around to at least know what had happened to her! Because of you –"

"Well, if you had been taking better care of her, like you were babbling on about last night –"

"Don't you _dare_ say that! I wasn't the one throwing folders in her face! I wasn't the one who caused Sharika to be fretting over me, and therefore susceptible to attack!"

"I wasn't the one who was hiding behind the couch like a pussy, and who's now blaming an innocent woman for something she had nothing to do with –"

"Both of you SHUT UP!" I interrupted them. I was surprised to see them both stop arguing almost instantly and look towards me. Under their facial layers of anger and frustration at each other and the situation, I saw real fear and worry for her. Understandable, considering how much she means to both of them – even to me. My brother's fiancée, my future sister-in-law, my friend. I have to care. "You both want the same thing, and this is getting us nowhere. You guys have to work together to get her back, not stand here fighting, getting nothing done."

I heard Sam's blackberry beep in the silence as Lauren and Sam eyed each other warily. It sounded like the one to indicate a dead battery, and showed yet again how strange the last couple of days had been. Sam never let his battery run low, let alone go flat. And now he couldn't care less.

"Both of you know that she's fine and that she's going to get back safely, I mean, both you and Sharika had that premonition, Sam. So, stop worrying and figure out what we're going to do."

"Dean, she's my fiancé! I'm going to be worried about her no matter what. I don't care what the future tells us, I don't want her to get hurt –"

"– my best friend, my best friend,_ my best friend_ –"

"STOP IT!" I breathed in sharply and glared at the ceiling, trying to get my anger under control. "This is getting us nowhere, so just _stop_ _it_, and think. What leads do we have? Where can we look for her?"

"What leads Dean?!?!" Sam shouted angrily at me. I didn't even wince, I've had him use that tone with me before. "She just disappeared! There are no leads, nothing we can work on!"

"Sam," I said assertively. "Look up being who could just appear here without making any noises and then just as quickly disappear."

"How is that –" he started to argue with me.

"Do you have any better ideas now?" I asked him.

"Fine!" Sam muttered to himself, and stalked off to find his laptop.

"Now, Lauren –" I started, but cut off at the glazed look on her face. She eyed the room, her cheeks flushed and her left eyebrow twitching slightly, the eyebrow that had a huge cut down it. She must have got it last night; from that clip across the face that demon had given her. When I'd seen her go flying, I'd sped up. If anything had happened to her I – I'd have had my ass kicked by Sharika. She'd blame me.

And now look at her, slash on her eyebrow, slight bruising around it. I was surprised she hadn't accused me of distracting her – the truth. I'd thought she was attacking a civilian. I mean, how reliant were her powers anyway, in identifying demons and supernatural beings?

"Sharika left because of the room…" she said. "If I just – I'll just…" She trailed away, and got down on her knees, her movements slow and dreamlike. She began to pick up sheets of paper that had flown out of the folder she'd thrown at Sharika's head.

Okay…this is worse than I'd thought it might be.

Lauren. Cleaning.

I thought she'd have gone homicidal, grabbed her gun and a couple of knives then headed out to track down the band members, anyone related to them, and probably Royce and that gay guy from the bar, then torture them for any scrap of information they possessed. It seemed more of a Lauren thing to do in this kind of situation – violence, I mean.

This self-delusion thing was worse.

At least she's taken care of though; now all I have to do is keep Sammy away from the possibility of Sharika being tied up against a wall, and beaten by demons…

∞∞

_Sharika_

"_Okay, I'll see you two later, yes! I _promise_ I'll call you more. Okay, bye_," I said in my native tongue as I hung up the phone with a frustrated sigh.

The first thing I did after I arrived in Australia again was call my parents to let them know I was here. I thought that they'd be pleased to see me again, but they were currently vacationing in Canberra!

Just my luck, then again I wouldn't have wanted to ruin my perfect daughter reputation by exposing my dad to the type of clothing I was wearing right now (a tight black wife-beater with skinny-leg jeans). My parents would have a heart attack, yell at me and then blame America's influence on this. Then they'd force me to change and make me always notify them of the clothing items I purchased in the future. Probably send them photos of me wearing the clothes, which they would view via email and then send back their dis/approval. That's just how they'd act with my choice of clothing. Imagine their reaction to Sam! So there isn't any way that I'd tell them about Sam until after I found Fiona and Joyee again. Tackle one problem at a time.

I can't be upset about that though, they were my parents. They only wanted the best for me. It was an enormous step for them to allow me to go to America, because in my culture the families were extremely close knit. '_Watch Bend it Like Beckham to get a better understanding_' I always told people when I couldn't properly explain to their, or my, satisfaction, as to what I was going on about.

My father offered to drive back up here (a three hour trip) but I told him to stay put. I didn't even know how long I was going to be in this country.

Seeing how I rarely called my parents without being reminded to constantly they took this opportunity to have a long discussion with me, about how my studies were going, what I was doing and basically what I was up to. (They didn't know that I was demon hunting, they still think that I was in uni doing my courses.) After they finished bombarding me with questions they began to tell me of what they were up to.

I threw myself across the double bed in the spare room we had (my house had three rooms, one the master bedroom, one my room and the other the one I was in right now).

_What should I do now? _I thought to myself.

I figured that I teleported here, I have done it once before (David's fake death). How could I have not explored that option before? But in all fairness, I did think that my best friend, the love of my life at that time, had been killed by an explosion…caused by a microwave…

That has got to be the strangest way to die, for a teen at least, I mean, who's ever heard of exploding microwaves before?

Back to the initial topic, how do I get back? I teleported to the abyss when I was frightened, I didn't think of where I wanted to go when I saw that folder flying towards my head, I only wanted to desperately move out of the way.

And when I was in the abyss, I felt a strong urge to come home, and poof, here I was.

I knew that I didn't have to return to the dark abyss, I didn't have to go there the first time, so I just had to concentrate, and focus my thoughts on Sam, Lauren (since I shared a special bond with each of them that I didn't share with Dean) or just the motel room's.

But first thing is first, I should try and call Sam, Lauren or Dean to let them know I was safe and not kidnapped by some demon in a place they used for refuge.

I picked up the phone again as I pulled my mobile phone from the depths of my pocket. I flipped the Nokia 6131 open and searched through the contacts list for Sam's mobile number (I didn't memorize it yet, didn't feel the need to…) I punched in the numbers on my home phone and waited for it to dial.

"Hey. It's Sam, I can't answer the phone right now but if you leave a message I'll get back to you," Sam's voice mail greeted me.

That was strange, why didn't it even ring? There were only two possibilities. One, he turned his phone off, which he never would do considering how important a phone call might be in the situations he gets himself into. And two, it ran out of charge, which I suspected it was. I told him to charge his phone, but he didn't because we got distracted from that and eventually forgot about it.

Oh wells, I still had two other phone numbers to take a shot with since this one was a dud. What are the chances that all three phones are unavailable right now?

I dialed Lauren's number, without having to look it up first, but I didn't hold much hope in her answering. Her phone was usually off when she wasn't out or it was constantly out of charge.

"Hi! It's Lauren McMartin. Leave a message if you want but don't expect me to call back, I never check my messages anyways…" I was right.

I put the phone down and pressed in Dean's number on the phone pad. I knew that I could at least trust him to keep his mobile on. I held my breath in hope as I heard the dial tone.

"Yes!" I yelled out loud when his phone began to ring. "Thank god!"

After six rings the line went down.

"What the hell?" I whispered. I rang him again, he probably went to answer his phone and then accidentally turned it off or something…

"This is Dean Winchester. I'm busy at the moment, leave a message and I'll get back to you." His recorded voicemail message played back.

I put the phone back in its crib as I tried my best to refrain from screaming.

They have such boring recorded messages, mine was "This is Sharika Mesba, it's two thousand and six, you know how these things work." Okay, so I totally ripped that off Seth Cohen's message in The OC, but it was still better then 'I'm insert name here. I'll get back to you.'

I opened my eyes and stared at the roof.

Now what do I do?

∞∞

_Lauren_

Ok, ok…

Ok…

It's ok…it's ok….

She's ok…she's ok…

_But what if she isn't??_

For those first few seconds when I'd not been able to see Sharika, it had been okay – I probably just wasn't looking in the right spot. But after that it had hit me, just as it had hit me that day at our university house, coming back after grocery shopping. Hearing the silence.

But above that, it was the feeling of silence.

The emptiness of the room. The void, the lack of the individual presence of a person; the fingerprints that identified them immediately to my senses, to my power. The complete non-existence of anything that signaled '_Sharika'_ to me in the surrounding area.

It had hit my stomach like a sucker-punch from a testosterone fueled teenage boy, stopped my heart in my chest and sent the shakes all over my body. I'd felt like running through the whole house, screaming her name at the top of my lungs, searching – but I knew it would be no use. I had enough of a handle on my powers to realise that _she_ _wasn't here_, and she was nowhere nearby either.

I'd felt my chest start to tighten, my breathing start to quicken as I felt the symptoms of my stupid disability (I mean, it's not even that bad asthma, it's just incapacitating for a length of time where I can't think, or deal with anything); but I'd calmed down a little, when Dean had looked at me. Studied me, really.

It was enough to stop me from having an asthma attack at least; not enough to keep me from screaming at Sam, and vice versa in his case. I couldn't admit weakness to anyone – hunger, real cold, real fear, anything. And somehow, admitting it in front of Dean just made the idea seem a thousand times worse.

No one here knew about my asthma except Sharika – _and she wasn't here_.

Oh god.

It was all my fault, of course. It's always my fault.

Now I just had to clean the room, make it the way she always wanted it and she'd come back. She was just punishing me, that's all. She'll be back. She'll be back as soon as I'm finished. I'll just keep cleaning. Yeah, that's it.

Demons, pfft. No way. Sharika's way too powerful for that. Kidnapping her would be like trying to hold on to a lit firework. You can imagine what that would be like yourself – dangerous, suicidal, and possibly involving the loss of limbs.

I should have been taken, I mean, look at me. I even _look_ softer, weaker, less likely to put up a fight… Except for the fact that I had a huge cut on my eyebrow from last night. That can be seen as dangerous looking, debonair even. I had a bump on the back of my head too, from it slamming into the ground, stupid demon…I'm babbling…

If they'd kidnapped me though, all I could do was talk them to death, which can be swiftly rectified by a sock in the mouth, or the cutting out of my tongue. Ew – to the sock. If they'd cut my tongue out, I'd have choked and died on my own blood just to spite them. That, and I just couldn't live without being able to talk.

The concept is – well, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, way."

"What?" Dean asked from the opposite side of the room. He and Sam were sitting across from each other, muttering to themselves and trying to come up with any new leads on the Demon issue. I hadn't told them yet that it was all my fault, and Sharika would be back as soon as I'd finished cleaning so they didn't really need to worry about stuff like that.

And I didn't think I would either – tell them that is. I don't want Sam going off at me again. I hate real conflict, unless I'm forced into it – in which case I won't back down. And Sam playing on my guilt and worry like that, well, I could have happily stabbed him. "Just thinking," I answered, and went back to packing my suitcase as neat as any of Sharika's were. Fold, fold, fold and place. Smooth creases, and pick up next item.

"Mmm, about?" Dean asked me, disrupting my pattern. Fold – no crease – no –

"Cutting my tongue out," I replied, and looked up at him from under the cover of my hair. I don't know when it had come out – but it was probably from running my hands through it over and over, and worrying at the band until it came loose. It's a nervous habit – that, and my right leg continuously moving. It had a life of its own when I was agitated. Up, down, up, down, faster than a hummingbird's wings. It was on hyper drive right now, as a matter of fact.

"That probably wouldn't be a good idea," Dean said, and came to sit beside me. He removed the t-shirt from my hands and placed it next to him. "Now, do me a favor? Besides promising not to go near the knives in my trunk, or the kitchen?"

"Yeah?" I raised my eyebrows at him, affecting boredom. I really wanted the t-shirt back. I needed it back, I had to get it back – _I had to get Sharika back_ – give it back Dean!!!

"Think back, when Sharika disappeared. Did you feel anything, anything at all? Like that feeling you guys shared last night, or a flash of something, you know, _evil_? I know you said your powers aren't that developed, but I trust them pretty far. You were accurate last night, and I give that a lot of credit." He was trying to calm me down and butter me up – soften me so I'd be more relaxed and likely to go with his flow. He was a charmer alright. It was probably how he got his information out of people in his job – that, and lies about his identity, and what not. I sighed. "Now, anything?"

I shook my head. "There was nothing – I don't know if it was because my own emotions were clouding my power, or if Sharika cloaked herself, or what –"

"Whoa, whoa. We're going with the demon theory, Lauren."

"Don't be silly," I condescended. "Shar, kidnapped by a demon? She's just too powerful." I couldn't allow anything to shake my faith in that. I wouldn't.

Dean leaned forwards, his hazel eyes catching my own, and ceasing their relentless shift to my shirt. I had to – I couldn't help remembering the last time we'd looked at each other so closely. A flicker of heat shot through my stomach – and I realised, this was just another of his ploys to press his point of view on me. Well, I wouldn't fall for it. I knew what was what – and Sharika would be back as soon as I stopped getting distracted and got down to business. As soon as I'd finished cleaning she'd be back.

OKAY???

"Lauren –"

"Dean –"

"– she's been taken by a –"

"– give me my shirt back before I chop off your testes."

He paused, and I didn't break eye contact. Oh god, leave me alone – my stomach is collecting enough butterflies to feed an army of birds. For all he knew though, I was completely serious. I have that kind of face when I really need to. Straight, and impervious to the kind of searching look he was using.

Besides, like I'd go anywhere near _his_ testes.

He handed me the shirt back. "Just snap out of it Lauren," he said, and stood up, heading back to Sam.

Snap out of what?

Weirdo.

Ok, now.

Fold, fold, fold and place. Smooth creases, and pick up next item.

Fold, fold, fold and place. Smooth creases, and pick up next item.

Fold, fold, fold and place. Smooth creases, and pick up next item.

Fold, fold, fold and place. Smooth creases, and pick up next item… _Shar, when are you coming back? _

∞∞

_Sam_

"– it could be a Zmeu, they kidnap beautiful young woman, usually for the purpose of marrying them. It's a long shot, but I'm going to explore every single option, and it sort of fits what happened. Sharika, just disappearing –"

"No, it has to be a prince or a knight to rescue her. And no offense, Sammy, but you're not really prince or knight material," Dean smirked at me.

I glared at him, putting as much spite into my expression as I could.

How could he be like this right now? When SHARIKA WAS MISSING!?! She was gone without a trace, not only that but she managed to disappear in a room full of people, all of whom are hunters! If that isn't enough of a cause for worry then I don't know what is!

Sometimes Dean was too juvenile! Who knows where Sharika could be right now? Chained up against a wall with demons throwing fire balls at her, or even worse. Probably crying for help and wondering why I'm not there to save her.

No, she wouldn't do that, when faced with real and immediate danger she doesn't lose face no matter what. Sharika can take care of herself, but she was still human, when people looked at her they only saw her powers, well at least Dean did. They didn't see a person who was just as vulnerable and susceptible to harm as the next. She was still…she was still a mortal despite her powers. She had soft, smooth skin like any other woman out there, she had expressive eyes which would show the demon that captured her, the horror she probably felt but didn't show. My heart ached, just thinking about it.

I just want her to be here, in my arms, where I could keep her safe from all the crap out there in the world. If anything does happen to her, I'll never forgive myself.

They could have done a number of things to her, like bind her powers or even take them away from her momentarily. They could have taken her to a place where magic was blocked so she couldn't use her powers. She'd be completely helpless then.

_How do you know she isn't dead?_ Constantly ran through my mind. The horrible thought imprinted on my brain.

I know the premonitions said otherwise, but just as I've said before, premonitions don't always come true. Sharika, she can't end up like Jessica. I can't, I can't go through that pain again. I almost didn't make it the first time, and the second time…I'd die. I just wouldn't make it.

I tried to bar myself from the romantic world, the wide world of emotions and vulnerability, but Sara persuaded me otherwise. Yet the moment I let myself love again…no, it just can't be. I WON'T LET IT! Not again, not anymore.

IT'S NOT TOO LATE!! SHE'S STILL ALIVE! I CAN FEEL IT!

We have a special bond, if she did, god forbid, die, then I would be able to feel it. There'd be a sudden sharp pain in my heart. There's been accounts all over the world about this happening. In every culture, religion and country. A mother or father know exactly the moment their child died or was hurt. Why? They have a special bond, a connection, like the one I have with Shar.

I will protect her this time! She's going to be safe, and I'll see her tonight, in bed, with her long black hair messed up and splayed over her pillow, her face buried deep in the crook of my neck, her bottom lip held in between her teeth in an attempt to cease its quivering as she desperately gasps for air. And her hands on my shoulders, her fingers digging into my skin – not painfully though – as she arches her back, causing her chest to press against my own chest while I...while I make love to her. Then I'll lower myself, and rotate my head to kiss her fully on her soft lips, lingering as long as I could, taking in every detail as though it would be the last time. Knowing the work we do, it very well might be…

I made a mistake last time by not trusting my powers, my intuition. I rejected that whole side of me, and I paid dearly for it. But now I do, Sharika taught me to, like she did with hers. I swear to god though, I'LL GET THIS SON OF A BITCH IF HE HURT ONE HAIR ON HER HEAD!!

I'll wipe the floor with his stupid, sorry ass, and make his death a long drawn out, painful one. I'd get revenge on this thing, cold, hard, excruciating revenge. I won't rest until I do.

"Dean, I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation –"

"Believe me, I do. But someone has to cheer you deadbeats up."

I ignored his comment and turned back to my laptop, annoyed that he could be so light-hearted at times like these. My eyes went back to the screen, searching for more possibilities.

An incubus? Is that possible? They usually seduce women at night but Sharika was a special exception. Incubi slept with women to impregnate them with their evil seed, in hopes that another incubus or succubus would be born into this world. The spawn bred from normal women were powerful enough, but an incubus/succubus combined with Sharika's powers…it'd be one of the greatest forces of evil ever known to this world. Since Sharika was just taken forcibly, the impregnating would be done forcibly, it means that the incubus would exact itself upon her, he'd touch her in places that only I was allowed to…he'd rape her.

_SON OF A BITCH! GET YOUR FUCKEN FILTHY HANDS OFF MY FIANCEE!_

The thought of it made me burn with raw anger and fury, it made me want to kill every single evil sons of bitches out there just so Sharika would be secure. But at least that way, she would still be alive… "Okay fine, what if it's an incubi…imagine how much power evil would have then. The kid would be evil, and then inherit Sharika's powers. It makes sense as to why they would choose –"

"No, they only seduce women in the middle of the night. Like succubi. You know that Sammy, stop pulling up randoms and actually think about this." He sighed, giving me an insight into his own frustration. "Look, I know you're worried, I am too. But you have to keep your head leveled. Sharika can take care of herself, as demonstrated last night."

I ignored his previous statement and turned back to the screen, typing in the words _demon kidnap young women_ as fast as I could. There had to be others, others who would take Sharika from me, and leave a trail to follow…

He was right though, it wasn't the MO of that particular breed of demon. And she would have been able to fight them off. They were nothing compared to the amount of power Sharika had.

This was completely fruitless, there were so many demons out there, and other things besides, and we didn't have any where near enough clues to work with. No sign as to what happened in here. And even if by some lucky chance we guessed the right demon, where would we look? It's not we had a map to the lairs of demons. Hopefully Lauren would depart some knowledge on this subject.

I glanced over at her, my eyes observing her obsessive cleaning. No, not a chance, it was all up to me to help Sharika. My eyes sought out another possibility.

"Okay, what if it's a –"

Dean's mobile rang from his pocket. He got it out and looked at the caller id, his face without emotion.

"Unidentified," he told me, glancing up, and going to snap the phone open to talk to whoever was on the line.

HOW COULD HE TALK TO SOME WOMAN HE HAD A ONE NIGHT STAND WITH NOW!?!?! HAS HE NO DIGNITY!?! NO CONSCIENCE!?!

I opened my mouth to voice my feelings when Lauren beat me to the punch.

"HOW COULD YOU?! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO CHAT UP SOME RANDOM WOMAN WHILE WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE SHARIKA IS, AND I'M TRYING TO CLEAN!! HANG IT UP RIGHT NOW, YOU UNFEELING, CALLOUS BASTARD!!"

Dean cleared his throat and shut his phone off. "Sorry."

For the first time since I've met her, I felt connected to her. She must be just as worried about Sharika as I was, except I was the only one doing anything constructive about it. I had no idea as to what was the purpose of her cleaning.

"Bastard and his stupid….chatting up….all by myself, trying to bring Sharika back…oh great, now I have _Hips Don't Lie_ in my head….hips do lie! They DO!!"

∞∞

_Sharika_

I laid down in my bed, my hands resting on my bare stomach and my feet and shins perpendicular to the mattress, wearing a _modified _version of my old school uniform and a plastic bag containing Lauren's belongings attached to my ankle.

I couldn't call Ryan to orb here right now. He had a life other then his whitelighter one and I restricted myself to only call him in extreme circumstances, which was once or twice a year. And I wasn't in any immediate danger. I could easily get back home via a plane ticket. But it'd just be easier to teleport back there, which is what I think I did. I studied a lot of magic skills when I first got my powers, and the way I just disappeared out of there, and then here are symptoms of teleportation. I did call him on his home number though, and told him of the developments in my life earlier on. (I was allocated to him when I was fourteen and he was sixteen.) He didn't seem surprised at all, since he guessed I teleported out when David 'died'. I was frustrated at him for not notifying me, but then again, self learning was a big thing to whitelighters. He gave me to advice to just relax and think things through, I'm guessing he was in a rush. Probably late for his date with Holly, his girlfriend, or something. I told Dean, Sam and Lauren of him, but none of them have met him face to face. And unless I get into a dire situation while they are there, I doubt they will ever meet.

I had tied up the ends of the cotton shirt just under my bust and my grey skirt pulled up as high as it could go. It was due to the heat in Australia, it was summer now, and the warmth was getting to me. Especially since I spent the past few months getting ready for winter in America, which was a billion times colder then it was in Aus.

It never snowed in Aus, and I still managed to freeze my butt off. Imagine how much worse it's going to be when it does start to snow. Actually, it'd be cool, seeing how I've never actually felt the coolness of snow in between my fingers. And I've only ever see it once, but I was too miserable to enjoy it since David had faked his death two days before it began to snow.

This time I'd be able to enjoy it, and I'd get to do all those activities which I've always wanted to do, like build a snowman, make snow angels and, of course, have a snow ball fight.

My mind drifted back onto the topic of David, as I stared blankly at the ceiling. I was still in shock that he's alive. It's wonderful, imagine, your best friend coming back from the dead. And the way we could be around each other, it's exactly like when we were back in high school. There was no awkwardness, or bashfulness. It was totally comfortable, almost as if time hadn't shifted forwards. It didn't even feel like we were ever apart, the way we were able to pick up almost exactly where we left off in our relationship (the only exception being that I wasn't romantically in love with him. He felt like a brother to me now).

I thought back to the 'date', if you could call it that, I had with David yesterday, he explained to me that he had to go into hiding because the death threat sent to him by the Dome Stalker was taken seriously, and he had only recently resurfaced because the stalker was only recently caught, just as I had presumed.

We spent the rest of the time catching up. He's a song writer now, and wrote songs for quite a lot of famous groups. Songs such as My Immortal, If You Could Only See, Cindy, Control Myself and Here Without You. He told me that he wrote Here Without You while he was held in captivity but refused to tell me who he dedicated that song to. I had my suspicions though.

He had written Angels Calling, which was later sold to and sung by Rooster, merely days before he had to fake his death, in dedication to me. It was a beautiful song, among my favorites, and it expressed what he had to go through and what he wanted to tell me perfectly.

Not only that, but he used my complaints about how fast the year was going and that we're all going to be old soon as inspiration to produce Forever Young. I laughed at that, finding it funny that my constant whines about growing old was used to create such a wonderful song as Forever Young.

I, in turn, told him that I was attending university, but taking a break as I went road tripping with my best friend. And then I went on to tell him about how Sam and I were engaged (I told him a little white lie, that Sam and I had been dating for over a year now…) and that I still had not told my father about it.

We spent the rest of the time reminiscing, about our teen years, the Dome, England. It was the most fun I've ever had in such a long time (other then with Sam of course). We'd made plans to meet with each other since we're both going to be in that area for quite awhile. We exchanged mobile phone numbers (well he gave me his new one, I kept the old SIM card I'd had for all those years) and addresses for where we were currently residing.

It did seem peculiar to me that David did turn up while we were getting closer and closer to the Demon who captured Fiona and Joyee, but it's just a mere coincidence. Just that, I mean, it's David, which demon would be stupid enough to send my best friend after me? He would never hurt me, he loves me as a sister, and I love him like a brother. Whenever I get an uneasy feeling I shake it off effortlessly by reminding myself that this was David that we were talking about. Not a random person I've only met once or twice, but _David!_ I cannot emphasize that point enough.

I looked at the clock situated on my desk, and noticed that quite a lot of time had passed by. I spent this time teleporting all over the house and further distances. It took a few tries but I managed to get the hang off it. Each time drained me of more energy though, hence the reason as to why I was in bed now.

Since it was too hot to wear full length jeans I opened my wardrobe in search of something suitable for this intense weather, and noticed my school uniform. I put it on, just to see if I still fit it, and I did. I then teleported to Lauren's old bedroom and collected her school uniform, so when I went back I would give it to her to see if she fit hers too.

I know that's kind of weird, but I just want to find out.

These were all short distances though; I needed to focus my attention so I could get back overseas.

It was too hot to concentrate though, small drops of perspiration fell from my forehead, and down my cheek. I couldn't turn the air-conditioner on because it would have drawn attention to the house (since it was so noisy) and then to me. The neighbors would ask questions about how I managed to get back into the house without being seen, questions I couldn't very well answer truthfully.

This sucks…

Using my powers, I opened the third big drawer from the top, and took out a bottle of deodorant, spraying some on me so I didn't begin to smell like sweat. I then put everything neatly back into place.

My parents kept my room exactly how I left it. They even dusted it to keep it from getting dirty.

I'm so bored now! I actually considered doing a four unit math text book to entertain myself! Not that I actually find math boring, I quite like algebra. But now wasn't the time to be think of such things. And I can't even focus on my goal now, you know, at least if Sam was here we could be doing something…_distracting_ that would take my attention away from the heat onto something more pleasurable.

This is ridiculous and getting out of hand. I am getting WAY oversexed here, but I can't help it. Is this how guys feel twenty four seven? God, I'm pathetic.

This is really, really strange though, what I have with Sam I mean. I've heard from friends that the markings of the beginning of relationships are basically just talking and sex, '_the fun without the commitment_'. Later on you get the security. But with Sam, it's like I'm getting everything at once, all the stages of a relationship in one go. With him I have the heat, I guess, that new couples have, but I also feel secure with him, we are committed to each other but... It just seems odd to me. And how quickly we both fell in love, especially considering how long it takes me to develop romantic feelings for anyone and the added fact that I didn't really believe in 'true love'. It's almost as if someone planned this or something…no, I'm being totally irrational here. Emotions can't be controlled, that explains the reason to why we feel in love so quickly. We just clicked with each other. And we're getting the security from the premonitions. We knew that this relationship was a sure thing, and instead of feeling overwhelmed and suffocated we just decided to make the best of it and accepted what was about to come. That has to be it…right?

Why have I suddenly become so suspicious? The whole issue with the Demon and the situation at hand, it's just getting to me. Well whatever the reason was that Sam and I fell into this relationship so quickly, it didn't matter. I loved him, and I'm glad that I got to skip past all the denial and the self doubt and I'm sure Lauren is too. She's the one who usually gets the brunt of my denial, along with Fiona.

I smirked to myself, thinking about what would have happened if I met Sam outside of this mission. I probably would have found out that I liked him in about three weeks after meeting him. And then would have told Fiona and Lauren. Then would have gone on to complain about how he would never like me, and that I should just get over him, and while I would try to force myself to get over him I'd complain to Fi and Lauren about how hard it was considering how perfect Sam was to me. And as for Sam, I have no idea. Even if he did tell me that he liked me as well I'd be suspicious of his actual motives, whether he actually liked me or not or whether he was only doing it to be nice or something. What can I say? I'm a pessimist. The glass is always half empty.

I doubt we would have ended up together if it weren't for this mission. Think about it, we both got those premonitions for a reason, one thing this 'trip' has taught me is that everything happens for a reason. Everything related to the supernatural though, the rest is chalked up to Lady Luck and Master Coincidence. If I hadn't gotten those premonitions and neither did Sam then we would have gone our separate ways. Never to lay eyes on each other ever again.

A twinge of unhappiness hit my stomach, I missed Sam. How is this possible? I was with him an hour and a half ago. I wanted him to be here with me so much that it actually hurts.

My eyelids felt heavy and they began to droop, my body relaxing its muscles on its own accord.

_No, don't fall asleep! _My mind ordered me.

But I'm so sleepy now, and it's hot. What if I just close my eyes, I can never get to sleep before eleven p.m. anyways. I'll close my eyes for five minutes and then start to practice teleporting again.

_NO! Keep yourself awake, damn it!_

Okay, I agreed with the domineering voice in my head. I'll recite math formulas. Happy now?

_Whatever, just keep yourself awake!_

"Mmmm," I moaned, as I struggled to think of random math formulas in my drowsy state. The heat combined with my own tiredness made for the perfect combination to ensure my sleep. "A square plus b square equals to c square. In quadrant one all of them are positive. In quadrant two only sine is positive, in quadrant three tan is positive, in the forth and last quadrant cosine is positive." I recited in a soft whisper.

Sam drifted back into my head. I loved Sam so much. I couldn't believe that I'd ever feel this strongly for a person my whole life. He was perfect for me, and hopefully, he feels exactly the same way about me.

I closed my eyes and imagined us at our wedding again, the happy look on my face and the large grin on his. A small smile made its way to my face as I thought of his ridiculous dance moves in co-ordination with my professional steps. The image made me want to laugh out loud, and I would have, if I wasn't so tired.

_STAY AWAKE!!_ My head screamed at me urgently when I felt myself slowly drifting away, but too tired to fight it. It felt so relaxing though.

"Minus b plus slash minus square root of b square plus four a c over two a. Degrees Celsius equals to five over nine times, in brackets, degrees Fahrenheit minus thirty two…"

"SHARIKA!?!?!" A loud screech interrupted my low toned ramblings. I was instantly picked up by two long, strong, powerful arms and pulled up into a big bear hug.


	17. Rescue Mission

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**Rescue Mission**

_I want to be you - whenever I see you smilin'  
'Cause it's easily one of the hardest things to do  
Your worries and fears become your friends  
And they end up smilin' at you  
Put on a smilin' face_

Smiley Faces – Gnarls Barkley

_Dean_

"…Degrees Celsius equals to five over nine times, in brackets, degrees Fahrenheit minus thirty two…"

_What the fuck is that?_

I glanced up from Sam's laptop to the source of the noise, only to see Sharika on the couch, her knees up and her hands on her stomach. She was wearing some sort of school uniform that looked like it belonged in an adult shop. Her eyes were shut, and she had this strange, dreamy smile on her face as she muttered something related to maths or physics.

At first I just noticed the appealing views supported by the outfit she was wearing and my standing point, even though she was Sammy's future wife. Hey, I'm just a red blooded male. I thought I was dreaming, or that some marijuana smoke made its way into this room from the two druggies next door, because I never would have suspected Shar would wear such clothing. Ever.

Then again, she had surprised me with her pink and black underwear.

Maybe it's just my oversexed mind trying to stop thinking about Lauren, and focus my attention on another attractive female. Unfortunately, this particular female was going to marry my little brother. So I'll just have to live with the images of Lauren in interesting poses that constantly parade in my head – not that I particularly minded. Lauren is remarkably hot after all – at the same time though, it didn't mean that I wasn't going to enjoy an appealing female form when it was laid out so alluringly right in front of me.

It's not like I haven't had dreams about Shar, I did after I was knocked out and dragged back to the motel room by Lauren. Several, consecutive and _good_ dreams, filled with what I'd call _great times_. But I thought that my head made up a woman, not that she was actually real. After Sam told me about his premonitions I stopped dreaming about her. The only problem was that I had started to dream about Lauren. She's become a constant in my mind, taking up half of my thoughts, every moment of the day, whether I'm with her or not. It's only because she's so attractive, otherwise I wouldn't even have seen her that way…I mean, its _Lauren_. She's…_Lauren_. There aren't even words to describe her.

"Can you two see her, or is it just me?" I asked Lauren and Sammy. Just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Better to be safe then sorry.

"SHARIKA!?!?!"

I flinched, and covered my right ear with my hand.

_Guess it wasn't just a dream after all... _

I glanced to the right, where Lauren had been sitting, organizing her stationary and papers just seconds ago. She'd disappeared, along with Sam, who'd been sitting right in front of me, on the lounge chair.

I looked over to the couch, and saw Sam and Lauren hugging each other, ecstatic. Sharika was held up off the ground, in the middle of the two of them, looking alarmed. I saw a plastic bag containing some clothes swing from her ankle, and wondered –

"Where the hell have you been?" I asked, but no one noticed, as Sam and Lauren dropped Sharika, and Lauren grabbed her arm so they were facing each other.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

"Was it a demon?"

"How did you get out?"

"What happened to you?"

"Are you okay?"

"Did they hurt you?"

There was a pause as Shar looked at them, probably trying to decide what question to answer first.

"What the hell are you wearing?" I asked, taking in the full effect. The checked grey and white shirt was tied up under her bust, and the grey skirt was half way up her thighs. And to think, at first she seemed so innocent – but look at her now. Sam's effect on women? Damn, I've been underestimating the boy.

Sam and Lauren finally noticed what Sharika had on. Sammy looked at her with the same expression he had on when he was watching her pole dance at the bar. Shocked, but at the same time _very_ interested.

"Is that…?" Lauren asked, trailing off, an incredulous expression on her face. She looked back up into Sharika's eyes, her eyebrows rising.

"I just wanted to see if it still fitted! And it does. I have yours too." She undid the bag from her ankle, and passed it to Lauren, who held it up with her thumb and forefinger, shaking it with disgust.

What the hell happened to her? What kind of perverted incubus gives their victims clothes to wear before they seduce them? Is that even what happened? I doubt it – even though it was our main theory. She didn't look harmed or anything; she wasn't even dirty like most victims are after captivity.

"How did you get this?" Lauren asked, confused.

"Where were you?" Sam repeated.

"Home," Sharika said, looking up at him patiently. "I teleported there."

There was silence in the room as everyone absorbed this remark. "Teleportation? You can teleport? Why didn't you tell us?"

Hiding stuff from us again? How could she do that? The way Sam and Lauren had behaved because of her – the fear, the worry, the guilt and anger that they'd taken out on each other, none of it would have happened if she'd shared a simple piece of information with us. Even I'd been fucking worried, while she'd been relaxing in Australia, trying on school uniforms and crap like that.

She could have at least called us to tell us she was okay. It was so inconsiderate, selfish even – she didn't even care that we were scared for her safety –

"I think that's what happened – I didn't even know I could do this. Until just then – well duh." She paused, then she looked at the three of us. "I called all three of you! I got your voicemails instantly –" she said, pointing at Sam and Lauren, "– but when I called you, it rang six times then the line went dead, and when I called you again it went to your voicemail." She told me. "What happened? Oh, and by the way," she said, pointing at Sam and me, "both of you have very boring voicemails."

_Shit…_I take it all back.

The three of us glanced at each other, and Lauren started to take a lot of interest in the carpet. Sam, on the other hand, found the ceiling more to his taste – probably because it's closer to his head. I simply coughed. "So, you can teleport?!"

"I don't know. I asked Ryan, and he didn't tell me much. We have to see someone who is not in a rush to get laid about it."

"I know the perfect person!" Lauren said, and grinned at me. She can't be thinking about – "Royce!"

Damn it. That weird old guy, with his tea, and the way he looked straight at Lauren when she wouldn't notice, and out of the corner of his eyes when she would. This really strange look too – hungry almost.

I don't want to go back and see him, his informant was a dud for one – we didn't find out anything new at all. The blue man crap? I mean, that was nothing. Probably just one in a line of false leads.

"When can we see him? We should go as soon as possible."

"Right now. I checked the hours when we were walking out. And managed to remember something for once."

∞∞

_Lauren_

"Okay, um, let me just get changed." Sharika turned around and headed to the bedroom.

Suddenly my empath powers took over again, shoving Sam's conscious and emotions in my head. He was ecstatic that she was back, of course, a mite confused about this whole teleporting thing, and the teeny, weeniest bit sorrowful about the fact she was losing the school uniform.

"YOU WANT HER TO WALK OUTSIDE LIKE THAT?" I asked, horrified. Not only would Sam be seen as some kind of pedophile for courting a high school chick around, she'd freeze. "Why are you wearing that anyway? Why did you get _mine_?"

Dean, looking totally nonchalant, said simply, "What guy wouldn't want her to walk outside like that?"

"It was hot in Australia, and I didn't want to be boiled alive. It was forty degrees!"

I paused. Forty degrees. Hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, and so dry outside you could practically watch your pores shrinking. I'd always complained about it, moaning about being hot and sweaty and yucky all the time. A running theme in Australia. "I miss it," I said simply, pouting. I miss everything about Australia.

Especially my family. Coming from a big family like mine, you get lonely when you only have a couple of people around you. Of course, you'd never even consider admitting it to them.

I have three brothers and two sisters, and then there are their partners, synonymous with the family member they belonged to – Scott and Belinda, Stuart and Danielle, Rachel and Craig, Meagan and Troy. Jordan, my youngest brother was too young to have a girlfriend yet. Thank god. It's bad enough thinking about everyone else…you know. I mean, I was already an aunty – and at my age!! Twenty two. Ish. Stuart and Danielle had had two little boys, Scott and Belinda had had a little girl, Meagan was pregnant. Rachel and Craig were engaged… God. I'm practically the only one…no wonder mother keeps bugging me. _Lauren, go find yourself someone_, blah, blah. I don't need a man to fulfill my life. I'm happy the way I am, thank you very much. I mean, just because everyone else in my family is ready to settle down, doesn't mean I am. I'm a free spirit! Independent! I mean, even _if_ my best friend is also in a relationship, and I'm still the only one that I know – wait! I am not! Joyee and Fiona! Ha! _They_ didn't have boyfriends before they were captured, and how the hell would they procure one holed up wherever they were? They _couldn't_.

Of course…thinking about this just makes me feel even worse. Another part of their life that they are missing out on because of the situation they're in. I wish we had found them, of course, I was always wishing that. All the futile searching, all the false leads, the days that just kept slipping by. They just kept adding to my frustration, to my need to at least know if they were still…The waiting was the worst. Waiting, and looking feverishly for a new lead when our old one had crumbled. Trying not to break under the pressure, scrambling for anything that could lead us to them. And now there was the added distraction/help of the two brothers.

They were far more experienced than us, sure, but Sharika and Sam, and their whole deal – as happy as it made everyone; it was interrupting what time could be spent finding Fiona and Joyee. Not that I'm blaming them – I'm not perfect. The other night I could have been finding out information and following leads – instead I'd sat at a bar and gotten as drunk as a monkey. Why? I still haven't figured that out. The whole night is a fuzzy, spiraling cloud; all I can remember is the taste of the wine I was slugging back, beautiful faces, tinkling laughter and Dean and Sharika's kiss.

I looked at the two of them – Dean was looking bored, Sharika melancholy.

"Yeah, me too," Sharika said, looking sad. _What_ – _oh, right._ I just remembered what I'd said – about missing Australia. She was replying to that, Lauren. Duh. Suddenly she paled, looking down at herself. "Oh my god! Lauren! I left my normal clothes in Australia!"

I had to laugh. All my tension over worrying about Shar, and from my anal-reticent cleaning spree, disappeared as I imagined Sharika's parents finding the kind of clothes she wears these days. They'd totally freak out.

"So what?" Sam asked, looking confused. "What's wrong with your clothes?"

Shows what you know Sammy. Sharika's parents aren't as strict on her as they could be – but they also weren't as lenient as to allow her to wear what she usually did when outside their company. For example, her short skirt from the other night. Not allowed. The t-shirt she was wearing this morning? Not allowed.

Sharika sighed. "Curry parents, that's what's wrong." She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together in front of her chest, as though she were praying, and started muttering – "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home…"

There was silence in the room as she opened her eyes. "Um, Sharika…" I said, looking at her as though she was crazy, raising an eyebrow. I mean, seriously, how was _that_ supposed to work? "You forgot to click your heels." Everyone knows that.

"But I'm not wearing the ruby shoes."

"_Slippers_," I said, exasperated. "Ruby _slippers_."

"Whatever." She closed her eyes again, clicked her heels and repeated her litany. It still didn't work. I struggled to conceal my laughter behind my hand, and bit the inside of my cheeks, nodding and lowering my eyebrows so I looked serious.

_Dorothy she ain't. _

She sighed in frustration. "It was working when I was teleporting at home! I even went to your house using this method." She said, pointing at me. She looked back at Sam and Dean. "And if you're wondering why I suddenly started doing this, imitating movies and books… I mean, let me start from the beginning. When I was just thirteen, my parents left to go shopping and I just gave them a list of mine, 'cause I really didn't want to go, anyways, the main point is that I was left alone at home. Within ten minutes of their departure I was attacked by this rat demon that cloaked himself, so neither my blowing up power nor telekinesis would affect him, not that it would've helped anyways, my powers weren't quite so advanced then. While he was chasing me around the house I was yelling out spells, they did deter him but didn't cause any proper damage. Well, he managed to corner me; he was advancing on me with this evil look in his eye when I totally ran out of spells. I started panicking. Then out of no where the Harry Potter spell came into my head and I screamed out, I mean I might have as well given it a try since I had no other ideas in mind, so I yelled out 'SUNSHINE DAISIES BUTTER-MELLOW, TURN THIS STUPID FAT RAT YELLOW!' and then the demon exploded. Ever since then I've been using movie, book and other such methods some work and others don't. Charmed actually turned out to be pretty helpful. Some of the stuff they have there are real. And that show with Jared and Jensen in it, Paranormal I think it was called."

"Ok…" Dean said, and cleared his throat.

"Yep," I agreed. "Okay, I know what will get you home. A single word – well, okay, two words. Ready to feel the blaze of my genius?" I was getting inspiration from what she'd just mentioned.

"Lauren, get it over with."

"Hey, I'm trying to help you. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"LAUREN!"

"JARED PADALECKI!"

"What the hell? How the hell is that supposed to w-" and suddenly Sharika was gone.

I grinned, and cleaned my fingernails on my shirt, blew on them then looked them over. Heh, heh, heh. Brilliant or what? I know I am, I know. For some reason, I feel suddenly superhero-ie. You know that kind of, I don't know how to describe it…a kind of untouchable feeling, like everything is going good for you? I don't know why. It was a feeling I usually got on only one day of the year, and judging by current events, today was not that day. So I don't really know why I have that feeling. Oh well, doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. "Genius. Told you, didn't I?"

"Who the hell's Jared Padalecki?" Sam asked me, still staring at the spot Sharika had been. She'd disappeared immediately, no shimmer, no ray of light, no smoke. It was almost anti-climatic. But then, so was the way she usually exercised her powers. When blowing something up she usually just blinked at it – no extravagant hand movements, no weird recitation. When moving something with her telekinesis, well, you'd never be able to tell it was her. The premonitions – you'd think she was daydreaming; and honey, the levitating thing? Well…okay, yeah, _that_ was awesome.

"Oh, just some guy she was in love with most of her teenage years…" I said, drifting off. I glanced down at the bag I still held between my thumb and forefinger. I couldn't…could I? It was regressing. I mean…it's not like it would still fit me…would it? I shouldn't…it was stupid, I mean, I never even liked it…It couldn't hurt to _try_…

"I'll be right back," I told Dean and Sam, fully intending to just put the bag on the bed….so I wouldn't have to carry it anymore…

"Lauren, _who_ is Jared Pada-"

When I got to the bedroom I closed and locked the door. I looked down at the uniform again. It seemed to mock me from inside the bag. _You're just scared_…_What would it hurt…?_ "_Fine_!" I said, giving in to myself, and the manipulative evil of my school uniform. Even after having left it behind for three years, my high school still had a hold on me. _Stupid_… "But only for a minute…just to see if it fits…you _know_ it won't…"

I took off my jeans and pale yellow singlet top, then took my grey and white checked shirt, and grey skirt – identical to Sharika's, except for their size…and the paint stains I managed to get on them, even though I didn't even do art – out of the plastic bag.

I slipped my arms through the shirt sleeves, and did up the buttons, then bent down, holding my skirt just before my feet.

"Rescue mission complete," I heard Sharika's voice from the living room. "Are we going now? Where's Lauren?"

As quickly as I could, I pulled the skirt on and did up the buttons, then sprinted back into the lounge. "I'm here!" I exclaimed, still in a condescending, superhero-type mood. _Untouchable_. "Don't worry, don't panic, everything is under –" Suddenly my skirt fell down around my ankles, and I stared at it in shock. "Control," I finished weakly. I just noticed – my shirt comes down to half way down my thighs – it used to be just roomy enough to show a little bit of my shape – now it could be mistaken as something I'd picked up from my older brother's floor – if I was ten years old. My skirt had obviously given up the fight to stay put – there was nothing there able to hold it up. It used to be pretty tight, too.

I simply stood there, dazed, staring at the grey pool of material draped around my feet. When had I – how did – why –

"Um, Lauren, maybe you should go get changed?" Sharika's voice prompted me.

I looked up, to see the three of them staring at me, varying expressions on their faces. Sam's – incredulous, Sharika's – amused, Dean's – amused, incredulous and the look he got when he was just about to make a smart ass comment. _Not something I need to stick around for._

"Right!" I said, interrupting Dean's starting line – and picked my skirt back up, pulling it around my waist and holding it there as I scurried back into the bedroom. Now to take this thing off.

_See_, my head scolded me._ You _knew_ it wouldn't fit_.

_Yeah_…another side answered it. _But not for _that_ reason_.

_But you saw the other day that you lost weight – _

_But now it's just sunken in…why am I talking to you? Stop scolding me._

I pulled the shirt off, and let the skirt fall to the ground again, stepping out of it. _Now_, I thought, walking over to the bed, _the hours on the door said open 3pm Monday, until 4am the next_ –

The door opened behind me and I spun around. _Dean – oh fuck – _

_Haven't you ever heard of privacy!?_

I was only in my bra and undies – _hello?!_ My lace sky blue bra and panties that had tiny flowers all along the hems are not really something that I want the whole world to see. They are _private_ – _private, private, private! Not for your eyes!_

He grinned at me, looking so like a little boy – sort of reminding me of my own little brother, Jordan, in fact…he turned eleven this year. I haven't seen him since…I don't know. I don't even remember the last time I'd seen my little brother. I can't believe – I need to call them. Of course, my brother Jordan didn't really inspire the clenched heart feeling that I was experiencing right now as I looked at Dean. How could he – he – he'd scared me, that's all.

Dean paused, to rake his eyes over my sky-blue clad body – _goose bumps much?_ – and then he scooped up my school clothes.

_WHAT THE HELL?!_

My mind went blank.

_WHAT THE HELL?!_

He laughed at the look on my face and ran out of the room, holding my uniform over his head, much as he did when he'd stolen my bra that first night...wait, is that what this is about? Getting me back for the bra episode?

Or just to piss me off? Because you know…it's working.

I ran after him. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! GIVE IT BACK YOU PERVERT!"

He laughed again, staying just out of my reach as I chased him around the room – around the sofa, over the coffee table, through Sharika and Sam, out the door to the street – WHAT! BRAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dean stood just outside the motel room – about two metres away from me and the door I stood in, cursing at him. "DEAN, YOU ASSHOLE GIVE ME BACK MY –"

"Come and get it," he taunted me. "I dare you."

"Oh, now he's done it…" I heard Sharika whisper to Sam from behind me. She knew as well as any of my closest friends did – I could _not_ resist a dare like that – especially when I was pissed.

My eyes narrowed, my nostrils flared and – (after looking up and down the hall for innocent passer-bys) I hurtled out of the motel room, and straight at Dean Winchester.

_He was going to pay._

∞∞

_Sam_

"Rescue mission complete," Shar said as she once again appeared in the room, this time holding the clothes she was wearing today morning. She placed them on the counter just before she asked, "Are we going now? Where's Lauren?"

She was still wearing her school uniform, in the way she had it on before. Her shirt tied up in a way that you could almost see everything but it still managed to cover her enough that I'd have to use my memory, and any other male would have to use their imagination. Her stomach was left bare though, her waist was practically calling out to be held, stroked, touched and kissed. Her short skirt didn't do me any more favors then the rest of her clothing. Doesn't she know what she's doing to me? It's every guy's fantasy come true, their beautiful girlfriend in her high school uniform. I just wanted to carry her into our room and take full advantage of her attire.

An image of her lying on her innocent, virginal, teenage bed, wearing just what she was wearing now in the same exact style, beckoning me to her seductively, with a fervent look on her face jumped into my mind. Her hair was let loose, falling over her back and shoulders, skin flushed, chest heaving up and down in a rhythmic pattern because of the deep breaths she was taking to calm herself, eyes large and awaiting me with a hunger.

I reluctantly dislodged the extremely tantalizing image from my head.

Now was not the time for this.

My mind was still reeling from everything that's happened so far today. Losing Sharika (well not really, but I didn't know it at the time), getting her back to only find out that she's got a new power. It was a bit overwhelming.

I was so relieved that she was fine. To think that a demon was violating her…I didn't want to think about it anymore. No one will ever hurt her like that. No _thing_ will ever get to see her at her most vulnerable. I'll make sure of it. If I die trying to shield her from the pain, it'll be worth it. I've never loved anyone as much as I love Sharika. She's my life now. She's the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.

We really needed to know what was going on with her powers. Maybe this Royce guy could help, whoever he was. She might have even more powers, powers that could help us find dad.

As much as I hope that she did, at the same time I was dreading to hear this from Royce, who my brother described to me as a 'Hippie in desperate need of a shave, shower, sleep and haircut'.

I didn't want her to deal with more powers, I don't want her to suffer anymore then she has, she doesn't deserve it. What she does deserve is a nice and normal life, where the reaper and ghosts were just tales told to keep disobedient children behaving according to conduct. A life where the worst thing you can come across in a dark alley in the middle of a night was a knife wielding maniac, not a mob of harpies. She needed to be cared for, protected, and loved immensely. Hopefully I can fill these requirements, I'm gonna damn well spend the rest of my life trying the best that I can for sure.

But we didn't know anything about her powers, the extent of it. We had to, so we'll be prepared next time. We didn't need anymore surprises in our lives.

"I'm here!" Lauren yelled, she suddenly appeared in the living room. Her shirt was sagging on her, and her skirt barely able to hold itself up. It looked like she was wearing elephant skin. How she could look confident wearing clothes that were obviously three sizes too big for her? "Don't worry, don't panic, everything is under –" Her skirt had stopped to struggle to stay on her hips, and now had fallen around her ankles. "Control." She stared at the skirt in surprise.

I stared at her in disbelief, speechless as what to say to her.

"Um, Lauren, maybe you should go get changed?" Sharika suggested.

"Right," Lauren said, her face turning redder by the moment. She bent down, lifted her skirt and stormed back into her room.

"I should have expected that to happen, these kinds of things always do to Lauren," Sharika said to no one in particular sounding as amused as I was incredulous.

"Oh, this is perfect," Dean mumbled to himself, grinning.

I sent him a confused look, he ignored me as he made his way to his and Lauren's room, he opened the door and without any warning, barged in.

Sharika and I sent each other curious looks, wondering what was going on. Had the stress in the past few hours caused Dean to completely lose his mind?

We looked back onto the room; we heard Dean laugh then quick as a flash he ran around the room, Lauren following him, finally pushing past Sharika and me then out the door. He stood two meters outside grinning.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! GIVE IT BACK YOU PERVERT!" Lauren screamed in anger from the doorway of the motel room. She was only wearing blue underwear and a bra which were decorated with tiny flowers. Her hair was everywhere, making it look like it was buzzing with electricity. She looked exceptionally frightening – if I were Dean, I'd be giving the uniform back, kissing her feet and apologizing all the while. Thankfully, Lauren has never turned that look on me – she'd never even tried to be scary towards me, except when we'd informed Dean and Lauren about our engagement and she'd threatened me about ever hurting Sharika. Of course, she didn't have to worry about that, so so far we hadn't had any problems.

She stood there, in the doorway, undecided on whether or not she should continue.

"Come and get it," Dean goaded her. "I dare you."

"Oh, now he's done it…" Sharika commented from behind me.

Even though I could only see the back of her head I knew that Lauren had a determined expression on her face. It was in the way she squared her shoulders, and clenched her fists. A muscle in her lower back twitched slightly.

I'm just very glad I'm not Dean.

"_Fine_, bitch." And with those two words she was out the door, launching herself at my brother like a small, insane torpedo.

Dean, who had already readied himself for such an action took off in the direction towards the stairs. It was strange, the way he'd been acting lately. Like Lauren brought out the kid inside of him, as he'd been acting a lot more childish and immature, but at the same time…free.

Shar started to move forward, to see what my brother and her crazy friend were doing, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her into another hug.

"You have no idea how worried I was," I told her, holding her closer, and burying my face in her neck. She mumbled a muffled response into my chest. I laughed at my own stupidity as I let go of her.

"I surmised from your reaction." She looked up and smiled at me. "You know…never mind." She blushed, turning to walk out the door.

I quickly moved until I stood directly in front of her, blocking her path out the door. With my foot I closed it, to give us more privacy.

"Tell me," I prompted her, curious as to what she was going to say.

"No, it's not important," she said, as she waited impatiently for me to step aside. She fidgeted with her shirt ends.

"Sharika, I'm your fiancé, if you can't tell me who can you tell?" I asked, even putting on my puppy dog face for good measure. That one look worked on everyone, even Dean.

"Me, myself and I," she answered back stubbornly, looking away from my face. Although she seemed to have a hard exterior I could easily see my puppy dog look working its magic on her.

"I won't judge you. I already know how strange you can be," I joked. I lifted her chin with my hand so her eyes would meet mine.

"I know I can," she paused as she weighed her options, and still trying to avoid my puppy dog look. I could have told her that it wouldn't work. "Fine, it's embarrassing though…the only reason I could come back here, from home, was because I thought of you." She looked at the floor as if it was a very fascinating specimen of carpet. "There, I told you, happy now?" I could feel the heat off her cheek radiating onto my hand.

"You were mumbling math formulas when you came back," I teased her, enjoying that the fact that she could still be shy around me. Especially considering how _freely_ she acted with me the rest of the time. It was so adorable.

"Well," she started indignantly. "I had to keep myself awake and my old four unit math book was just lying there on my desk, it was the first thing that –"

I swiftly picked her up in a 'romantic pose' and kissed her, interrupting whatever she was going to say. Her hands slid into my hair, pressing slightly against my head so she could deepen the kiss.

We parted, both of us out of breath from the heat of the kiss.

I looked directly into her eyes. "I love you," I said, completely serious. She had to know now, incase it did happen again. "I'll never let anything hurt you as long as I live."

She smiled. "Melodramatic much?"

"Sharika I –"

She laughed and came in for another kiss. "I know, I love you too, more then anything or anyone, know that."

I looked into her dark brown eyes and saw what I felt for her reflected back at me. "I do."

She smiled again, this time though her smile faltered as her eyes fell down to my lips. I moved my head forward and our lips met halfway. Her hands slowly traveled down my head, around my neck and lowered themselves to the first button on my shirt where they lingered, undecided on whether to continue or not.

"We can't, not now, we need to go see Royce," she said while I kissed her neck.

"I know. Dean and Lauren too," I replied in between kisses.

"I know," she repeated, unwilling as I was to stop.

With one final passionate kiss we broke apart, breathing heavily.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU OLD BAGS!" we heard Dean yell in the distance.

Now what?

Even if there was a slight chance that we managed to actually do what we wanted in a matter of minutes (which was damn near possible, considering how she looked at the moment) it would have been completely ruined with his coarse language and our curiosity to what was going on out there.

I placed Shar back down on her feet and we both ran out the door to see what was going on.

We stood, leaning against the rails, to see over what was occurring in the parking lot of the motel. The sight that met my eyes made me want to fall on the ground in laughter.

Dean was on his knees, his hands over his head trying, and failing, to protect himself while a mob of three ladies, all over the age of sixty five, were hitting him everywhere they could with their large handbags.

"That'll show you, you pervert!" the one with a red, fur overcoat yelled.

"Don't take advantage of young girls! You monster!" yelled one who bared an uncanny resemblance to my own grandmother (father's side).

"Honestly! Men these days," commented the last one, she was wearing a large, stuffed vulture hat. She was striking my brother the hardest.

"Come on! I didn't touch _her_!" Dean defended himself through the barrage of attacks thrown his way. He managed to dodge a couple, but he could only defend himself – it wasn't our policy to attack, um, 'frail' bystanders.

My eyes momentarily left the sight of Dean and drifted over to Lauren. She was holding onto her stomach, laughing her head off at Dean's predicament – at least I wasn't the only one.

"YOU PERVERTED PEDOPHILE!" vulture hat screeched at Dean.

"You stole this young girl's clothes and forced her to go out in public like this!"

"Shame on you!"

"We have to stop this," I heard Sharika's soft and amused voice say from my left. "He's going to get hurt, by female senior citizens…"

"Yeah," I agreed, but I didn't move a muscle, too engrossed and pleased by the scene in front of me to want to try and stop it.

"Lets' go," she said, as she tugged on my hand and began to lead me down the stairs and closer to the Golden Girls.

"Umm…excuse me?" Sharika asked politely, unsure of what to say in this situation. Can you blame her? Its three old ladies hitting your future brother in law; I wouldn't know what to make of that situation either.

"Yes dear?" the Red Overcoat answered pleasantly, not looking up from her assault on Dean.

"What did –" Sharika started to ask before she was interrupted by Vulture Hat.

"Oh, DEAR LORD! That Sasquatch is doing almost the same thing to her! Pedophile!!!" she screamed, having finally looked up. She was now pointing at me.

The next thing I knew I was on the ground in the same exact position as Dean had just been in, with the three screeching ladies hitting me now. I got a few glances towards Dean, in between the purple, black and red flashes of handbag coming towards my face – he was currently lying on the ground out of breath and in need of medical assistance.

Just like I would very soon.

"What are you –" I heard Sharika's alarmed voice over the sounds of heavy bags hitting me. They didn't really hurt me, they were just tiring me out. And bruising. What did these women carry around in there? Bricks? Just so they could do this?

"Don't worry dear," one of them assured Sharika, as she swung at my ribs. "We'll take care of him; you run home now and rest." WHACK!

"But –"

"No need to thank us, you should go do your homework now," grandma clone told her as she continued to hit me. If my real grandma ever did this, I'd never go near her house again. _Even_ if she tried to coerce me with her famous ginger nut biscuits.

"STOP! He's my best friend's brother!" Sharika yelled out.

The three old ladies immediately stopped thumping me, as they turned around to face her.

"What?" they asked in confusion, all at once.

"See that girl over there?" Sharika pointed to Lauren, who was now shaking on the floor due to her laughter. I got up and dusted myself off, straightening my clothes in the process. I checked myself over for damage – I was going to have a lot of bruises on my sides; fortunately, I'd protected my head and face from most of the blows. For senior citizens, they packed quite a punch. I edged slightly behind Sharika, eying them with caution. If they made another move towards me, I knew what I was doing. Running straight for the car. "These are her brothers; we had to drop something off because Mrs. McMartin asked us to. But we were already late for school so Lauren thought that she should just get changed here when her eldest brother, him," she paused as she nodded in Dean's direction. He was now on his feet, glaring angrily towards the old ladies. There were leaves in his hair, and he was holding his side carefully. "He stole her school uniform as a prank. You know how brothers can be. Then we ran after her. They aren't perverts. And we're fine." Sharika made up on the stop. It was a weak story, but believable non-the-less.

I glanced over their faces, to see if they were buying it or not.

"Then why are you dressed like that?" Red Overcoat asked, looking skeptical. "It's nearly winter."

"I…uh…" Shar tried to think of something believable. "It's 'cause…"

"It's because I dared her to go to school like that," Lauren interjected, saving Sharika from answering. She was standing now, and as I watched she bit her lip, and blushed slightly, clasping her hands together in front of her. She smiled shyly at the ladies, who cooed amongst each other like pigeons and immediately softened, losing their aggressive poses. How the hell did she turn from the Lauren we know, into this innocent looking school girl? How does everyone she pull it on fall for it? It's like a gift. "There's, like, this totally cute guy who is, like, totally crushing on, like, Sharika. And, like, he's, like, the school captain, so, like, we're trying to –"

"Discredit him so our other friend, Alice, can run unopposed for school captain next year," Sharika finished for Lauren. "The plan is that I seduce him and then lock him in a closet, so we can rampage his room and finish phase one of the plan. Ma'ams, don't ask about the conniving and manipulative nature we take on for the course of this plan, we're just very determined adolescents who only have the best interests of the future of the school at heart. And whether or not this strategy is something the public will approve of is not a high priority on our lists right now considering the attitude Malcom, he's the one we are plotting against, displays towards education. Not a very good one to say the least. So I request you all, and I don't mean to be rude, to please return to whatever activity you were taking part in before this whole episode. Thank you and good day to you all." She said with an air or professionalism. It actually sounded feasible, especially the way Shar sold it with her 'act'.

The three females looked at her, at Lauren, who was still smiling at them angelically, then at each other and they shrugged before going back to where they came from. They muttered amongst each other as they went, and I heard the words, 'kids today', 'strange', and 'such nice girls'.

"That was –" Dean began to say before Sharika interrupted him.

"We should get changed and then go to your guy," she turned and hurried back up to Dean and Lauren's room to collect her clothes.

"Yes, let's," Lauren agreed, and swiped her clothes out of Dean's hands before hitting him over the head with them and heading after Sharika, humming.

"Let's never speak of this again," Dean muttered to me as we followed Lauren inside. He probed his side gently and winced. "We're lucky that we had Sharika to stick up for us – Lauren just stood there laughing."

I simply agreed. "Never again."


	18. Full Potential

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**Full Potential**

_I wish you never told me_

_I wish I never knew_

_I wake up screaming_

_It's all because of you_

Scared – Three Days Grace

_Dean_

My ribs felt as though they'd just taken a beating from a demon, not three 'well-meant' old women. That was nothing compared to my ego though – that had taken an equal bruising. Me. Me, cowering away from three handbag wielding senior citizens, who were defending –

"Dean, get over it, okay? It's pissing _me_ off now, and I only find it hilarious," Lauren growled from next to me in the Impala. I took my eyes off the road to glance at her again – she was wearing a stretchy blue shirt, with the slogan 'Conserve water: drink beer!' written across the bust, and a small picture of a mug of beer beneath it. And jeans that looked like they'd been painted on.

All the jeans she'd worn previously had been as loose as mine were – her shirts too. Apparently she'd just realised she'd lost weight, and could get away with wearing clothes like this. Where she'd got it from at such short notice though –

"By the way Shar; I still can't believe that your jeans fit me!!"

Ah.

"I've been telling you they would for how long now? And Lauren, don't tear them, spill food on them or –"

"– give them to a hobo on the street. Yes, Sharika, _I know_. It only happened _once_." There was a pause in the car. "Okay, okay, _twice_. Jeez."

"Lauren, one of the three has happened every time you wear something of mine. And that black skirt was my favorite –"

"Some favorite Sharika, you only noticed a month later, after I'd replaced it."

"Yeah, because you forgot to remove the tag."

"I'm supposed to remember stuff like that? It's _me_. Besides, did you really want it back? It had a huge –"

"Don't tell me! I prefer to think it's in a nice home now."

"Okay, we're here," I said, as I pulled to a stop in front of 'The Pentagram'. Sharika and Sam just looked out of the window for a second, taking in the shop.

"This is where you got information from?" Sharika asked finally, looking at Lauren as though she couldn't believe it.

"Um, yes? Shut up Sharika. Royce was – well, you'll understand when you meet him. He's not what you'd expect, in a way. In another he's fits the stereotype so well it's almost not funny." Lauren smiled. "Come on, trust me for once. And if you don't trust me, trust Dean – he brought us back here. You wouldn't have unless you thought he could help, right?" she asked, turning to me.

I didn't know how to tell her; I wouldn't trust Royce, even as far as I could throw him. And that's not a very long way, considering everything.

"Sure, Lauren. Whatever you say."

"I'm glad you agree," she said, nodded, then hopped out of the car, caroling, "Come on Shar!"

Sharika sighed, and got out of the Impala, followed by Sam and myself. Lauren was already entering through the glass door, completely at ease.

She didn't suspect any kind of danger, but then, recalling what Royce had said about her last time – that she was too quick to trust people, naïve almost – I wasn't surprised. She'd thought Royce had been helping us out before, but I couldn't rule out the possibility of him having an ulterior motive. Besides, my spidey instincts practically screamed when I'd seen him the first time.

I kept rationalizing; maybe it was just my reaction to his powers, but even when meeting Lauren and Shar I hadn't gotten that feeling off them – which is a big contradiction to my theory then, considering how powerful Sharika is.

"Wait," I said, and pulled Sam back for a second. I motioned at Sharika to continue with a smile, and then muttered to Sam, "Just keep an eye out, okay? I don't trust this guy."

Sam looked down at me searchingly, and then nodded.

I nodded back then we continued over to the shop.

The annoying tinkling sound that I remembered from last time chimed as we stepped inside, and I glanced around to see where Lauren had got to in such a short amount of time.

Could she be in the back with Royce already?

I heard the sound of her laughter, followed by Sharika's from somewhere to the left, behind some bookshelves. Sam and I glanced at each other, then tracked the sound.

I scoped out the customers as we went, checking for any signs of danger, or ambush. They were all what you'd expect; pseudo and wannabe Wiccans, a few hippies, a group of bubblegum popping teenage girls who were giggling between the book stacks and ogling me and Sam. Nothing too threatening – well you know, except for the teenage girls.

"Here they are," Sharika said, as we found them. Royce was between the two of them, and as the girls of them turned to smile at us, he swept his eyes over them, the familiar hungry look in his grey eyes. And to think I'd thought it was just my overactive imagination. Then again, it could just be that they were attractive women, not because of their powers or any-

As Sharika came over to stand next to Sam and he looked down at her, Royce checked Sam out, with the exact same expression as he'd looked at the two girls.

Since he's never looked at me like that, and I am the better-looking guy, compared to Sammy, I'd have to go with the conclusion that he's attracted to their powers, not their genetic makeup. As Sam looked back up, Royce tore his eyes away to smile down at Lauren.

"So, you wanted…?"

"Your informant was a dud. He sucked. Well, literally and metaphorically, if Dean had given him the chance." Lauren grinned at me, and I tried not to remember back to that night, with the guy cracking on to me, and his sleazy smile. I am strictly hetero, I don't enjoy being hit on by other guys – I mean, I don't mind if they're out there doing it, I just don't want to see it or be a part of it. And how come I'm always getting mistaken for being gay? There was the other night, then there was this job down in Oasis Plains where two people in five minutes thought that Sam and I – that Sam and I were a _couple_. I only have one word for that – sick. And not in a good way. And there are countless other times guys have hit on me. I don't really know what to say when that happens – 'Um, no sorry, I don't lean that way?' 'I don't bat for your team, buddy?' 'I'm a Martha, not an Arthur man?' "In any case," she said, turning back to Royce. "Some of us have come to kick your ass, the others to ask for your help again."

How did she – damnit, her stupid powers, knowing all these things that she doesn't need to –

"Nice," Royce said, and grinned at me. I kept my eyes leveled back at him, not changing my expression.

"I am, aren't I?" I asked. "Lauren can testify to that, seeing as how she's my girlfriend and all." He'd offered up that conclusion last time we were here – and I was going to use any means possible to protect her from her own gullibility.

"Dude, I know you guys aren't together now – I realise that last time I was just misreading the sexual tension between the two of you. I know better now."

"I don't –"

"Sexual tension? _Sexual tension_? Ha ha, you're joking right? Sexual tension? You must have been mistaken. _Sexual_ tension? _Sex_ual? Between _me_ and _Dean_? Ha _ha_, not a _chance_. Sexual? _Tension_? _Sexual tension_? Never. I mean, _sexual_? _Us_? Ha…no _way_. _Never_." We all looked at Lauren as she continued to babble, and laugh nervously. She was telling the truth of course, we didn't – that way – us – it was just bodies, not people. That makes sense right? But babbling like that? It was… sexual tension? _Us_????

"You're quite the talker when you can bear to speak," Royce said, and laughed, slinging an arm around Lauren's shoulders and looking down at her with an amused expression.

I wanted to rip it off.

"Yes, that's me, quite a – sexual?! Talker, yes, yes indeedy. Uh huh. _Sexual_???"

"Lauren, I think we've all established the fact that you and Dean are attracted to each other. Can we move on to the real problem now, please?" Sharika said curtly, in annoyed tones.

"_Attracted_??? _To_ _him/her_!?" Lauren and I both recoiled from Sharika's words at the same time. "No, no, no, you have it _all_ –"

"Anyways, Royce, do you think you might be able to help us? We kind of have some trouble, with teleportation."

"– I mean its Dean/Lauren, there's no way in hell that –"

"Teleportation? How fascinating. You must tell me more, my dear. Is it you? Your boy here? A friend? A hypothetical situation? Tell me all."

"– besides that one kiss, but that doesn't mean anything, it was just your affect on me, you two, the romance and the passion –"

"Let's go with hypothetical. Say the person in the situation – let's call them Bob – suddenly discovered that he had the power to teleport himself, and had no idea to control it. What kind of things could Bob do to learn about and manage his power?"

"You guys, be quiet!" Sammy hissed through the corner of his mouth.

"– shut up Dean/Lauren! Why should I? _I'm_ not – shut _up_!"

"Well, besides the obvious – practicing – I have a book on teleportation powers; not for the purchase of the general public of course; I've only ever sold two of them in the last eight years. Your friend Bob has a very powerful gift; I hope he realizes the dangers of having it, however."

"He knows very well." Shar answered without missing a beat.

"And not only that, _Bob_, is more powerful then anyone would have thought. He still hasn't reached the full extent of his powers."

"What??!! He could blow up any country of his choice, and you're still saying that he has not reached his full potential!?!"

"Precisely what I'm saying. He is too practical in his approach to his powers. There is no set way to control your powers; it has to come from the heart, not from the head. He needs to let himself feel emotions, to feel his powers, instead of detaching himself away from them. Only when he can let himself be emotional can he achieve his full potential."

Sharika looked at the ground, thinking. She looked straight back up at him and asked, "What would his full potential be anyways?"

"I honestly don't know, but when he displays it, it'll be a majestic sight to behold."

Lauren and I were pretty much talking to each other now, instead of the group. We were just saying the truth; it's not our fault if the others don't believe it. And how does she get me so angry? I just wanted to shake her – we were saying the exact same thing, and I didn't even have a reason. I didn't even know why I was angry. It was the truth, we only kissed because of the sexual tension between Sam and Sharika; it was nothing to do with who we were. And sure, she was hot, but I don't want to jump the bones of every hot chick I meet. And Lauren is Lauren. It's just too weird. _She's_ just too weird.

"Why do you make me so angry?" Lauren asked me, her voice furious and confused at the same time. "I don't even have a _reason_."

"Oh, and you have a reason for the rest of the stuff you do?" I asked, trying to defuse the pressure that had sprung up between us.

"Ha, ha, you're so funny." Lauren turned away from me, and headed after Royce and Sharika, who were heading towards the front counter, talking about her new found powers I supposed. Sam was still standing pretty close by me, and I turned to him.

"She's so –" I made a motion to the air in front of me, as though I were strangling somebody.

"Right, so, about Royce…"

"You saw that look he gave the girls too?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I was thinking, they are beautiful, and he –"

"Samantha, unless he's bi, or you're keeping secrets, he's definitely not out for that kind of extracurricular activity. He looked at you the same way."

Sam blinked. "Oh."

"Right," I patronized him. "He never looked at me like that, more's the pity. So I'm guessing he's not going for the handsome ones in the group, but the freakishly endowed. That means you, Sammy."

"So you say," Sam answered, rolling his eyes. "What can he do? Is there some kind of ritual or something, to steal powers? How cliché would that be?"

"I don't know man, we don't really know that much about your powers at all, not to mention the girls', or what can be done with, or to them. There's not exactly a how-to manual. It wouldn't be a big seller; _How to Control Your Psychic Powers for Dummies_."

"I don't know; we know a couple of people who'd be interested."

It was my turn to roll my eyes as we headed after the girls again. I wasn't fooling myself though.

I wonder how it feels, sometimes. All that extra responsibility.

Sure, it gives you extra protection; but it is the main reason that you need the protection so much – if that makes sense. Like all those powers makes you a magnet for trouble and danger. Plus all of Sam's guilt, because he thinks that mom's death was his fault. Seeing as how I have to look after Sam, it all just makes my job a hell of a lot more difficult. Ghosts and things that go bump in the night can sense the sort of things Sam, and now Lauren and Sharika, have going. And I'd have to look after all of them – Shar, despite first appearances, seems to have a reckless streak like Sam does, and Lauren – well, accident-prone is the understatement of the year.

I'm the only sane one in the bunch – I have to keep us safe, together. So far nothing much has happened, but losing Sharika, and Lauren getting attacked last night (she was going to get me later, for that cut on her eyebrow, I just know it), it could have been avoided if I had more information, and more faith.

"Thanks for this," Sharika said, clutching a small brown book to her chest. She smiled. "Bob will really appreciate it."

"I'm sure he will. Now, Lauren, why haven't you been practicing your powers? You know that those random emotional flashes will keep coming to you if you don't gain some control," Royce commented, turning his attention suddenly towards Lauren.

"Yeah, uh huh…how the hell am I supposed to practice? I don't _want_ to feel what these three mental cases are feeling, let alone have their urges. Do you know how disturbing it is to be suddenly staring at your _best friend's breasts_, because _somebody_ hasn't got the nerve to do it themselves? Or suddenly feel like bonking someone you don't like _that_ way? Or want to have _a threesome with yourself_???"

"Can't say I do," Royce answered, completely unruffled in the face of Lauren's fury and reluctance. "But they won't suddenly creep up on you later if you learn to control it now, will they?"

"Won't they? How do you know? Do you have a special book that I can take away for my friend Minnie? She could really use it." Lauren glared at the ground, and then breathed in sharply, closing her eyes. Sharika looked at her worriedly, but Lauren simply said, "Look, I just – I've never been able to control it. And it's never been this strong. So forgive me for not being an expert."

"Whoa there, the sarcasm is choking me. Don't worry. And sorry, no, I don't have an easy answers booklet for empaths. People who can handle that kind of power are very few and far between. Most of them go insane during the first month, so they don't really get around to asking for my kind of professional help."

"That makes me feel _soooo_ much better." Lauren had gone pale at this news, and glanced swiftly at the three of us, as though expecting something. When we didn't comment, she simply stared at the ground again._ What was _that_ about?_ I wondered, studying her.

"Sorry I can't help. It'll have to be a bit of trial and error on your part."

"_Mmm-hmmm_." Lauren sighed and strolled over to the chair she'd sat in for our entire last visit. She perched on the arm of it, and looked at everything except the four of us grouped around the front counter.

Maybe I should –

I turned back to the front counter and asked Sharika – "So, what's in this book of yours Bob?"

∞∞

_Lauren_

Just a bit of trial and error. Joy, joy and _fucking – stupid – why did I have to have such a 'rare' power? Why couldn't it be run of the mill?_ Not that being endowed is, because despite how many we manage to attract, there are few of us, but still – _arrrrrgh_!!!!! And I have to practice getting other people urges, inclination, and desires!? I have to _want_ to be feeling what my messed up partners are? I have to learn to _distinguish_ which person in the group is _hungriest_, _horniest_, most _tired_, most _freaked_ _out_ about some _random_ _topic_ I don't even _care_ about, because it only _matters_ to them?!

_What the hell?! _

And now they all know that I have the distinct possibility of going _insane_. Even though it wasn't for the first time – well... it's _really_ reassuring. I'm sure the four of them are laughing it up; how could _I_, crazy, bizarre _Lauren_, get any _more_ insane?

Besides, how the hell am I supposed to practice? Just suddenly latch on to Shar, Sammy or Blondie and stare at them all day, feeling every single thing they are feeling? I don't need to know when they need to pee, when they're feeling a particularly strong urge for chocolate (and I mean the _real_ chocolate, not the euphemism for Sam and Shar getting it on – another thing I have to worry about if I go around _practicing_), or what-fucking-ever.

And why was I this angry? I was angry before learning all this crap and having Royce bag me out for not being a model student in the art of freakiness, like our wonderful Sharika. And it was all because of Dean. I mean, I didn't even have a reason to be mad at him, but I was. And it all started because we were both going on about how we weren't attracted to each other??

I mean, I can admit, Dean is the finest piece of male flesh I've seen in a while (trying to be crude here, I am so _pissed_), but I didn't like him _that_ way. I hardly liked him, he was so infuriating. Okay, I liked him. But only as a friend, and even _that_ is stretching it.

He was layered, despite my early thoughts of him simply being a perverted hunter that could possibly help me get my friends back. I had no _time _for layers. I was too busy hunting, and figuring myself out, to get distracted by soft-centered bad boys, plus Sharika's new powers, plus Sam and Sharika's relationship, plus Sam's constant guilt and worry, plus going insane, plus my family, plus extra demons that aren't even connected to our demon, plus _LIFE_.

Goddamnit to hell, why can't I get a break?

_Why Can't You Get A Break?_ the title of a book on the table next to me screamed in bold black and gold letters.

_Thanks God, no really, your signs, your guidance – I just have the sudden urge to make choked up, teary sounds, your always there for me when I need you._

I picked the book up, and flipped it over to read the blurb.

_Why can't you get a break?_

_Are your colleagues always getting the promotions, the raises?_

_Are your friends always the ones romantically involved, while you watch on the sidelines?_

_Did your cat die in a freak accident, and your mother didn't tell you until a year later? _

At this point I almost freaked out and called my mother, to check on Mango, the love of my life, my tabby cross Persian, marmalade colored, Garfield wannabe cat, but I rationalized that the book was speaking generally, not to me in particular.

_If you answered yes to two or more or these questions:_

_Karma is probably fucking you up! _

_What did you do in a past life to deserve this? _

_Find out all your answers, inside! Meditation exercises to discover your past, and reinvent your present and future! _

_Only $34.45!_

I rolled my eyes.

_As tempted as I may be, God, I just can't _bear_ to think that you would allow karma to fuck up an innocent like me. So I'll just be taking any possible 'signs' from now on, as crazy mixed up coincidences. You feel me?_

I put the book back down and glanced towards the front counter. Royce, Sharika, Dean and Sam were pouring over the book, probably organizing exercises for 'Bob' to attempt when we got back to the motel.

I sighed, and got up from the chair arm I was sitting on top of, wandering over to a deserted book-lined aisle. I passed my finger over one shelf of them, as I walked along the length of the book shelf, my eyes flicking over titles.

_Wicca Garden; Full Moon Rituals; Blue Moon Rituals; The Use Of Candles In Intimacy Spells; Spell Crafting; Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Spirit and You!; Ghostly Gatherings, And Where They're At; Ten Signs You're Demonically Possessed; Cutest Ass I've Seen Since I Last Perved On Winchester's – _whoa, what?

Oh. My. God.

Hot. _Hothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothothot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

"Lauren, are you okay?" Sharika asked suddenly coming up behind me. I didn't even blink.

"I think my uterus just skipped a beat," I whispered in a hushed voice. "Oh-my-fucking-god."

"What?"

The guy left the shop and walked down the street, not noticing my avid perusal, and soon he was out of sight.

"That guy was – okay, I can finally say it. Moan-worthy." I sighed, closed my eyes and almost did. Suddenly everything was okay for me. I felt at peace, like sure, I could do anything. I can handle myself, my powers. I can do anything. Well, you know almost. It's just that, seeing people like that restore my confidence in the fact that there is good in the world, and people can be okay.

All because of that – _oh my god_ – guy. Yes, I am very easily distracted.

So sue me if I can appreciate the beauty in and on people.

_I know what __**I'd **__like to be on _–

Eep!

Hem, hem. Enough of those thoughts Miss Lauren.

I glanced down and away from Shar, holding my flushed cheeks, and saw the title of a book closest to me on the shelf.

_God Is Speaking To You – Yes You!_

I stared at the book title, before glancing at Sharika, nodding quickly, and stalking back to my chair.

_Crazy, mixed up coincidence, crazy, mixed up coincidence…_

∞∞

_Sharika_

I threw the pile of books onto the table as I walked into the motel room by myself. Lauren had ran to her room as soon as the car stopped in the car park in front of the motel, and Sam went along with Dean to relax at some pub – and to see if they could hear about any strange occurrences from the drunk bikers who are the mostly likely crowd to populate any pubs these days.

Although I didn't quite buy that excuse I couldn't really care right now. I just wanted to be alone for awhile.

I flopped down on the couch, tired after this really _long_ day. I leant back and tilted my head to the right, staring straight into space.

Like Lauren I really didn't feel much up to doing anything. And after the past few days of being constantly cooped up with someone, I needed my solitary time. I only got my small windows of opportunity when Sam followed Dean for a little while after that party, and the few times I woke up to an empty bed (only because Sam was in the kitchen cooking up breakfast). Time to think over what has happened and what will happen. The small amount of time I was at my house didn't count. I had to think of ways to come back here.

As much as I loved Sam and Lauren, I needed to mull things over in private. I couldn't afford any distractions from their behalves. I had to find the best way to approach my sort of new powers. They couldn't have been new though. My powers don't really advance unless under extreme circumstances, I have what I have and I just need to work with it, harness it and hopefully use it for the better.

I guessed that she was mad at Royce for telling her what I've been saying all this time, ever since I found out about her powers. Part of me, a very minute part which I always hide away as not to let Lauren become aware of it, was glad that someone else finally agreed with me when it concerned her powers. I told her millions of times, and endless barrage of talks, encouragements and even heated arguments which all ended in exactly the same way. She would agree to try more and then just totally forget, or pretend to. I don't know which. Now, I didn't really care. It inevitably led to this result anyways.

Now her powers were all over the place, therefore she's all over the place and now with Sam, and Dean and Fiona and Joyee and…its all a little overwhelming.

A bitterness, which has slowly grown in me throughout this whole experience, was elated that she was suffering due to inability to control her powers. I told her that this would happen, I freaking told her. Did she believe me? No. Now she's acting like she's the victim of all this. Like the world has turned it's back on her and she's left all alone to deal with it. That powers are only affecting her. Oh poor Lauren, _I don't want to feel these urges_, blah, blah, freaking blah. If you had listened to me from the beginning you wouldn't BE IN THIS MESS TO START WITH. DON'T ACT LIKE IT'S THE WORLDS FAULT THAT YOU GOT THESE POWERS! THAT YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE NOW! DON'T ACT LIKE YOU COULDN'T HAVE PREVENTED THESE PROBLEMS FROM ARISING!?! You've been warned time and time again that these occurrences would happen, you knew that it would happen. What was your response to these warnings? You simply ignored them.

And now you think you are the only one who's going through hard times with _gifts_ that were _bestowed_ upon you. You think that I had a fun and easy time with my powers. That as soon as they came to me I utilized them and used them for whatever purpose I had.

DO YOU THINK I WANTED THESE GODDAMN POWERS!?!?! YOU THINK I WANTED TO CONSTANTLY SUPRESS WHAT I FEEL, WHAT I WANT, WHAT ANY OTHER PERSON WOULD BE, AND IS ABLE TO DO FREELY JUST INCASE I ACCIDENTALLY DID SOMETHING WITH MY POWERS!?!?!?! I took control over what I had, just so things like that would not happen. I wasn't going to put myself in a position of vulnerability. I was responsible, and practical. I knew my powers could hurt people, _I've_ been told that time over time. I knew what I had to do, and I did it. I never played the victim, I NEVER held the 'it's too much' card. I dealt with the problem head on. Not wanting any pity or anything.

I detached myself from my powers. Our, both yours and mine, powers are tied to our emotions. I had to detach myself from my emotions, so my emotions wouldn't be reflected onto my powers and cause harm. Therefore my powers wouldn't respond badly to a situation which caused me to get mad, frustrated or anguished. Not even that, my powers would respond to any type of strong emotion, fear, happiness, even love. My emotions would be at one bay and my supposed _gifts_ at another. I had to work so hard on that. So hard…

_Did she think I wanted to emotionally cripple myself for the safety of others?!? For the safety of people who I don't even know?!? For the safety of people I don't even like!?!?_

This brought back memories of summer camp of when I was fourteen. It was for two weeks, I went with Lauren and Fiona. Joyee had something else to do. I was separated from Fi and Lauren, and put into a cabin with the most treacherous girl I've ever met. Janet. She used to call me brown shit, worthless, dirty, and a number of other horrible names that I don't even want to remember.

Day in and day out, she mocked me, insulted me. She continually humiliated me in front of others. She covered me in mud, and told me to stay there since that's where I belonged. But I kept it all in. Until halfway though the second week. She said something that made my blood boil, it made every single fiber of me want to tear her throat out. She told me that I should just go back to my curry country and act like the dumb, inhumane ape that I am, with the rest of my family, while wearing diapers in our hair, and munch on curry.

At that point, everything that I held in, all the taunts, the snickers, the scowls, the cruel smirks, everything that I'd faced on her account, just everything, blew up in me, and burst out of my body in a force of sudden energy.

She was standing on the road, waiting for my response, when the car, fueled by my powers, came crashing into her. She was critically injured, and she was in a coma for three months after that. And now, to this very day, she's in a wheelchair. She was just a fifteen year old girl, making stupid mistakes like any other fifteen year old girl, mistakes she would soon regret.

The police were baffled at how a car without any passengers, which had been stationary on completely flat land for three straight days just started to drive it self.

You know the worst thing, when she was fitted into her wheelchair, and had settled at home, she called me. She apologized for what she did, she cried over how mean, and cruel she was to me. She sincerely, and genuinely wanted me to forgive her. I wanted to cry when she told me how sorry she was. _She _was the one that was sorry? _Her_? I couldn't even tell her how sorry I was. I wasn't brave enough to admit what I did wrong. I didn't even mean to do it, I never suspected of such a thing to occur. My parents told me that these things would happen if I didn't control my emotions, and I didn't listen. I'm just a pathetic, little, worm, truly unworthy of living. Ever since then I had to be able to control my powers, I became determined to do so. I couldn't let anything like that to ever happen again. And I never would.

The bitterness expanded to fit in a growing resentment towards Lauren as well. It's all tough for her, is it? She's the one in the dark place while Fiona and Joyee were trapped by the demon? Where'd she think I was, Happy Dappy Freaking WONDERLAND!?!? But then again, it's all about her, and only her. I'll always be there on the side, while she deals with her issues to this whole GODDAMN situation. I'll be smiling and offering support, being the strong one, keeping a cool, leveled head.

So much for a freaking empath. She couldn't even feel how scared I was, how deep my fear that something worse was happening to Joyee and Fiona.

I've never been able to freely or easily express my emotions. I've always had trouble doing so. I just bottle them inside of me and vent for the next few hours, slowly releasing anything I felt in small amounts. (I just can't hold a grudge, I could get over them in a matter of minutes, depending on the severity of the act committed against me of course. I think the longest grudge I had was about four hours, and that was against Joyee because she carelessly completely ruined a very important thesis paper which I had to work on in the school library up until three am the previous night because Joyee was tampering with my computer and somehow managed to contract a virus from one of the chat rooms she goes on. She dropped it into the toilet, I can't really remember how she achieved that now.) But, this Lauren thing, it's just been bubbling under the surface, festering slowly, getting worse and worse everyday. But I know for sure once this whole freaking situation is over I'll stop feeling this way.

I can't even tell Lauren about these feelings which I'm harboring, she'd just get mad at me and then go "Oh yeah, I can see how upset you are over this whole thing. I mean, Sam just screams 'I must help Fiona and Joyee!'"

I did feel guilty sometimes, that I've been so selfish as to indulge myself at this time. But I couldn't help it, I just fell in love with him so quickly, and it all happened so fast. It couldn't be controlled. But I still could have waited till we found Fi and Joyee. They're what's most important now. Not me.

I sighed, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face.

No, I'm just taking out my emotions to this whole predicament on her. _This isn't about Lauren or Sam. It's about your fright. Don't misplace your anger. It's just pointless. _

We'd spent most of the afternoon at that shop scouring the entire store for information to help me with my teleportation. We found a few books, and got a few names but Royce just recommend that I practice my powers more, and become more in tune with my emotions. That's how I could reach the full extent of my powers.

I guess he was partially right. I did approach my powers like I would approach an essay, or any other type of work. But that's how I got things done, the practical way, I couldn't use my emotions, they'd get the better of me and then people would get hurt. If I ever got angry there was a really good chance that I'd unintentionally set the person who caused it on fire, or if I got overly excited there was a probability that I could have blown up a house. I've been told that ever since my powers started to come in and show themselves.

I can't hurt anyone. I already have, Fi and Joyee. It's bad enough that they are taken away from me. They're hurt and scared, and it's entirely my fault. The Demon took them just so it could take my powers.

And now this guy is encouraging me to be more emotional. For me to be more emotional is a calling for people to get hurt.

I got reckless with my powers once. That's how the Demon must have found out. It was the only explanation available. Now two people I love are harmed because of that. If I got emotional with my powers now then even more people would get hurt. That's the horrific simplicity of it. It's almost like a game, almost. Except if I make one mistake, I just can't pack up and hope to do better next time, the consequences of my actions will last forever.

_But if you got more powerful, there'd be a better chance that you'll be able to rescue Fiona and Joyee._ _Is that a risk you're willing to take?_

"Only time will tell," I said aloud to an empty room.

I stretched out and slid further down the couch.

That was true, but the selfish, spoiled brat inside me (the result of being an only child) was crying at the newfound knowledge of even more powers. I don't want anymore powers! I'm fine with that I have.

_You've always had these powers. Don't stop reaching your full potential just because you're scared. You aren't alone this time. Someone now does understand what you're going though. You can handle this better now. You're a stronger person more capable of handling the pressure. _

I'm…I'm just tired. After all these years and months, I'm just worn out. I have nothing left other then weariness to show for my powers.

Why me?

I want to be normal. I want the innocence everyone else besides me has. I don't want to know about demons, or ghosts or the supernatural. I want to be able to just laugh it all off as ridiculous stories. I don't want these burdens.

_Well you have them whether you like it or not. Wishing them away won't work and you're just wasting time. It's not only you, Lauren, Sam and Dean have to deal with it as well. You're not alone. _

They didn't have to deal with powers like mine, they didn't have to do the things I did. How would they understand what I'm going through?

_Dean won't understand. Lauren definitely won't understand. But Sam, he will._

Sam will. I know that Sam will. For that I am glad, despite myself. I didn't really want Sam to carry these burdens like weights constantly placed on his shoulders. I wanted him to have his naivety too.

It's unfair, all of it, every goddamn detail of it. None of us deserve this.

_Well reality is unfair. You know that very well._

I do know that. I say that. I hate that.

Why couldn't we all be normal adults, in normal situations? Not monster fighting ones.

_STAY STRONG! DON'T BE A WUSS! You've dealt with this before, you can surely deal with it again. You have to stay strong. _

I felt tears stinging my eyes, as they threatened to fall onto my cheeks.

_I said STOP IT! WIMP!_

My body started shaking as I thought more and more of the powers I had.

_Why are you shaking? There's no reason to! Stop this nonsense! Look, just deal with it. Put up or shut up you freaking baby!_

Suddenly I heard the door open from behind me. I quickly wiped away the tears, removing any signs of my weakness off my face, and twisted around in my seat to see who came in.

"Hi," I greeted, smiling lightly.

∞∞

_Sam_

"Hey," I responded back to Sharika.

I spent the past half hour with Dean at some club. I didn't want to, but Dean thought it'd be best if I gave Shar some space to soak in with the information we received from Royce. I wanted to just stay with her but Dean convinced me that that's what Sharika would have wanted and I'd agree with him as well if it weren't for my 'hero complex'. We'd left with the excuse that we were going to see if we heard anything weird going on around here. I didn't really know if it was the best decision or not, guess I'm about to find out.

I took a deep breath, not sure what exactly to expect.

"What have you been doing?" I asked her as I closed the door and strode over to sit next to her.

"Just thinking," she replied simply, in a tired voice. She looked as if she had gotten considerably older in the past few hours.

She rested her head on my shoulder as she stared out in front of her. I put my arm around her and brought her closer towards me, rubbing her shoulder, trying to soothe her as much as I could. She was slightly shaking.

I knew it. I knew that this would happen. She's scared. She had endured enough with the amount she already had, she struggled to maintain her powers as they are now. She thought that was the full extent. And now, she finds out that she was even more powerful. That has got to be scary.

No one noticed her face right after Royce told her that she was still more powerful. The look was a mixture of fright, reluctance and misery. She did not want those powers at all. But she almost immediately drew herself up and went straight on to what we went there for. Almost as if she was programmed to act that way. Like a robot.

"About your powers?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She nodded. A pause followed as I thought of what to say.

What could I say to her? My mind was at a complete roadblock. I never faced the issue to the extent Sharika has, no one I know has. There wasn't any helpful advice or solace I could provide now. All I had was me, I hope that's enough.

She didn't need this, she's dealt with enough. I should be the one getting the extra responsibility. She's been dealing with this burden since she was what? Twelve? I only discovered mine recently. I was the one who deserved to be placed with such a problem, not her. If only I could take away her pain, her suffering.

Imagine dealing with this your whole life, the issues, the problems. Even Dean and I were scared when Royce said she had more powers. She was so damn powerful now, what else could she do? Did we even want to know?

She suddenly swung her leg and flipped her body onto mine. She straddled me as she buried her face in my chest and wrapped her arms around me.

"I don't want this Sam! I, I can't! My whole life I've been – and now I have more. I can't Sam I can't!" She cried.

I hugged her and brought her closer to me. "Yes you can, Sharika. You're a very strong woman. I know you, I know you can do it. You've always done it. You've always had this much power. And you've dealt with it. Just keep on doing what you have," I said softly into her hair. "I'll help you through it."

After a while she stopped shaking and relaxed in my arms. I stroked her back slowly.

I don't think anyone's seen this side of her, this vulnerable, scared part which she's always kept below the surface. Everyone just assumed she was perfectly at harmony with her powers. She's never shown weakness when it concerned her powers. It almost as if she got them and was able to harness them and use them to their full extend in a matter of minutes. That wasn't true. You have to read between the lines to know how she really felt.

She was still just a human being. She needed to be protected like any others out there. She can't handle this by herself. I'm going to protect her. I'm going to shield her from the pain and any other unpleasant things out there.

"Are you going to be okay?" I wanted to know.

"Yeah," she answered back, nodding. She lifted her head and looked directly into my eyes. "Thank you Sam." She smiled.

"That's what I'm here for," I joked.

Sharika chuckled lightly. I looked over her face, her sweet, pretty, brave face and thought about how lucky I was to have a woman like Sharika, and how much I wanted to keep her happy and secure. How much she deserved to be happy and secure. Not plagued with the worries of demons and powers.

I lifted her chin and brought my face closer to her. "I love you, you know that?" I kissed her before she could answer.

I will protect this woman. I'm going to guard her for the rest of my life.

_If you could only see…_Sharika's cell phone started to ring. We parted as she dug into her pocket for her cell. "Hello?" she answered. "Oh, hi David!" She got off me and sat down properly,

I glanced at her, she seemed to be much better now. She excitedly chatted to her long lost best friend, almost as if the past few minutes hadn't happened.

"Sure, I'm free. It's up to you. No, you _decide_. Okay, fine, I want to do what you want to do and if you want to do what I want to do then you'll want to do what you want to do!"

I'll see to it for the rest of my life no matter what.


	19. Cat Fight

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**Cat Fight**

_Lately I've been wandering_

_Off the narrow path_

_You've given me so many things that I've never had_

_And all in all I know it's you that always pulls me through_

_If you reach deep inside you'll see my heart is true_

_The world I know is pulling me_

_More and more each day_

_I feel like the odd man out as I begin to pray_

_Spiteful eyes are watching me_

_With everything I do_

_In the midst of darkness Lord_

_My spirit calls for you_

'_Cause I hate the way I feel tonight_

_And I know I need you in my life_

_Yes I hate the way I feel inside_

_And I promise to make the sacrifice_

The Way I Feel – 12 Stones

_Dean_

Why were we all here anyway? We didn't even have a purpose.

I guess we could continue helping Sharika with her flitting around the motel; but I have better things I could be doing. I could be hitting bars and picking up chicks to take home. Lauren was going out tonight, so it was safe enough. Sammy could have come with me even, except for one _tiny_ little detail.

Sharika teleported into the room, and rocked on her heels for a second, looking like she was about to fall flat on her face. Sam moved to get up to help her, but she said woozily – "I'm fine, it's okay," and teleported out again.

_Her_.

Sam is so pussy-whipped.

But I was glad for him none the less; he was moving on, with Shar, who I seriously think is really perfect for Sam. Not only are they totally in love, which is a plus… but she has so much to offer him and our family. She'll be able to empathize with him and his powers, and still be able to give him the apple pie life he's after, for one. I know I approved; I liked her, as a friend, and thought that she'd make a great sister in law. (And the fact that she could hook me up with her hot model friends played no part in this opinion, of course.) I know Dad will definitely like her. She's smart, strong, and has a good sense of humor, although she seemed to be the Marcia Brady of our group, she's got a hell of a sexy streak.

I can definitely get along with her, and can see her in our family foreverShe could even help me sway Sam's opinions in my direction from time to time – she's practical and can see reality's grip over the world today, instead of living naively…plus there's always the _additional_ things she could do for Sam to change his mind.

And of course – she'll definitely make him happy. And god knows Sammy deserves that.

Mostly I was glad; however, it just seemed as though everyone was leaving me again. Sam would move in with Sharika as soon as we find dad, and dad will be off hunting god knows what, when he's rescued and has rested for a while. Where does that leave me?

"How do I look?"

I turned my attention away from Sam and Sharika's relationship, and looked at Lauren.

My draw dropped – well, metaphorically I mean. She looked amazing – but I'd never tell her how hot I think she is.

"Lauren you look –" my mouth started to say, when Sharika popped into the room again, interrupting me.

"Lauren, you look fantastic!"

She was wearing her 'first date sweater' that all the fuss had been about this morning – it was white and knitted and comfortable looking. But at the same time it lived up to its name – if she really did wear this sweater on all of her first dates, it was for very good reason. The guy she went with would be at her every beck and call all night. Her jeans looked as tight as they had this morning, though they were a different pair, and her hair was worn up in a bun, with curls coming down already.

"Lauren, wear your own jeans. Stop taking my clothes. You know, you're going to give them to some random person again," Sharika said, looking at the jeans.

"They're my jeans actually; and I never have bad luck with my stuff, just yours."

"They look like they've been painted on."

"Uh, yeah. I spent the whole afternoon taking them in while I was thinking. Look good don't they?" she spun around, dancing and waving her hands.

"Lauren, wear your _own_ clothes."

"They are _mine_!"

"Look, go back to your room and take them off and I'll prove that they're mine."

"Why wait that long?" she asked, and undid her fly. She slipped the jeans off of her, and held them up, pointing to the tag at the back.

"Ok, _fine_. Where are mine then? Because we both bought the same pair at the last place we were in."

There was a pause as Lauren studied the floor. "Let's just say there's a very well dressed hobo walking around Wisconsin. You know, unless he's been murdered for them…"

"Lauren!"

"What? It's me." She gave Shar a sweet, innocent smile. "I bought you another pair."

"Fine, where's the other pair?"

Lauren looked down at the jeans she was wearing.

"Lauren!"

"Look, I'll give them back as soon as I come back, and I promise, I won't get juice, or wine, or –"

"Or whatever the hell that white stuff was, last time. It was hard to get out."

"As I was saying, juice, wine or semen, like I did last time."

There was a pause, again. This time it was on Sharika's behalf.

"That explains so much," she grinned in embarrassment and blushing. "Oh _god_, no wonder people freaked out when I asked them to help me get it out."

Okay…I'm just going to ask. "How the hell did you not recognize semen on your jeans Shar?"

"It's not like I go fornicating –" Sharika started to say before she was cut off by Lauren.

"It's Sharika. Sweet, innocent little Sharika who would never commit such heinous acts…you know, unless presented with –" and she waved her hands in front of Sam as though she was offering him up for auction. He laughed. "Aww, that is so cute Sam!" she said, then grabbed his cheeks and started pulling on them.

Sharika grinned, despite herself.

"Coochie, coochie coo!" Lauren teased, and Sharika laughed. I just watched them in horror, and noticed Sammy's similar facial expression. When we started this trip we never saw this coming – even in our wildest nightmares.

Shar stopped laughing suddenly, and I glanced at her suddenly shocked and saddened face. "Lauren, you should stop that now." Lauren looked at her too, then dropped her hands away from Sam's cheeks.

"Fiona?"

"Yeah," Sharika said, and looked away.

"You did this to Fiona?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows, and rubbing his cheeks. They were pink by now.

"No, it's just that –"

"Her reaction to Lauren doing that." A bittersweet smile spread across her face.

The doorbell rang, and Lauren jumped then started to prance around the couch. I can only deduce that she was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

I glanced around the room to see who was going to open the door – Sam was just lazing back in his chair, reading one of the books that hippie gave us, and Lauren was still prancing around the couch giggling, and clapping her hands. I'm certainly not going to open the door. Lauren shouldn't be going out on a date with that stoner biker – I mean, especially considering the situation we're in now, with Sharika and all.

Sharika's eyes clashed with mine, as she was making a similar survey of the room. "Okay, fine," she said, and went to answer the door.

"Whee! Date with Kyle!" Lauren said, then suddenly pulled herself up, and was completely serious and dignified, looking untouchable, and completely unlike her easy going self. I raised an eyebrow at her, confused, and she whispered to me, suddenly herself again – "I don't want him to know how psycho I am, yet." She smiled, then pulled on her mask again.

"Hi, Kyle isn't it? Lauren's –" Shar started to greet him at the doorway. I listened from the couch, trying not to care about what was happening.

But I glanced over just in time to see Lauren shove Sharika out of the way playfully then say, "Hi Kyle!"

"Wow," he said simply, grinning down at her. "I mean, you know. Wow."

"Very articulate, I'm sure," she said, grinning back. But I could see her blush in the hallway mirror. She glanced behind her, at the three of us. "See you guys later!"

∞∞

_Sam_

I put down the book I was reading, it was called '_So You Can Move, Without Moving a Muscle!'_ I was at the hundredth and forty second page mark. So far none of what I read was particularly useful.

"Whoa!" Shar yelled as she tripped over the edge of the carpet when she teleported here for the thirty eighth time, but hey, who was counting? She fell on top of the recliner in front of her.

"You okay?" I asked her, getting up to help her up.

"I'm fine," she assured me as she stood up, not even feeling dizzy this time. "I'm getting the hang of this. I don't get dizzy spells anymore. But I do wish there were further distances I could safely travel to. Cause the only three places I can teleport are my house in Australia, here and the other motel room."

"Why don't you try to teleport into the library, it's closed and locked by now," Dean suggested, as he stared intensely at the door.

"I can't, I can only teleport to places where I've already been or have a connection to," Sharika replied. She sat back down, looking tired and even slightly frustrated that she couldn't do more.

"Try at an isolated park tomorrow or something," I offered, as I strode back to my seat.

Sharika shook her head. "Isolated or not, I just don't want to bring back the Salem Witch Trials. So I can't do it in public."

The door opened and Lauren danced into the room. She dumped all the things she was carrying onto the table. "Hi," she greeted us airily as she walked around the couch and sat down next to me.

"How did it go?" Sharika asked.

"Oh we made wild passionate love on the floor of the restaurant. What did you guys do all night?"

"Oh, loads of interesting things," Dean answered. He started to eat his ice cream again, which had already melted into a soupy looking thing with tiny bits of chocolate flakes in it.

"Such as?" Lauren tried to prompt an answer from Dean.

"Well…uh…" Dean struggled to think of activities. "Like reading the new playboy!"

"Oh really! Can I see it!?! I've been waiting for this issue, for like, ever." She got up and bounced her way up to Dean and stuck her hand out.

Dean grinned at her. "Well, I'm not quite done with it. I'll give it to you when I'm finished. The pages might be a bit sticky I warn you."

"Killjoy," Lauren muttered as she flopped back down on to the couch.

"So, really, how did it go?" Sharika asked once again.

"Oh Sharika, it was wonderful. Magical, perfect, splendorous, glorious, beautiful –"

"Okay, enough with the adjectives." Sharika interrupted her. "What did you guys do? Please don't tell me that you, what was that phrase,_ spindled_ his _whazuzkerkaf_ with your _bagingoraf_."

What? What the hell? Did I just have a miniature brain tumor or something or did I just completely forget English and now can't understand a single word being said.

"Oh jeez, I only said that once…okay four times, _jeez_, thirteen times that once night, in that one hour after the date."

Sharika simply stared at Lauren.

"Okay. One hundred and thirty four times that once night. But you didn't have to remember after all this time. I only said it two thousand three hundred and forty five times. Okay, _okay_, two thousand three hundred and forty six times. And no, I didn't spindle his bagingoraf with my whazuzkerkaf, yet. We're taking it slow."

"Lauren, first of all it's the other way around, and the last time you said that you and a guy were taking it slow you ended up –" She looked around the room, almost as if she suddenly realized that Dean and I were here. "Never mind."

"No, no, tell me," Lauren tried to persuade her.

"No, not in front of Sam and Dean."

I looked at her, she was looking at the floor, clearly too embarrassed to say what she wanted to. I sent her a confused expression. What couldn't she tell _me_? How bad could it be anyway?

"Meh, I don't want them to know either, if it's what I think you're thinking. That was one of my more…uh…less informed decisions."

"Shar, tell us," Dean grinned. He moved to the other side of me and said, "I, for one, would like to know."

I was abruptly brought back to the current situation I was in now. On one side of me was Lauren, on the other Dean. Not the safest of all positions. I must move before something _unpleasant_ happens to me, like Lauren trying to kick Dean between his legs, missing and accidentally hitting me. I would like to be able to give Sharika children sometime in the future.

I got up and moved to the recliner Shar was sitting on. She shifted over and I sat down, I was still overlapping her. I wrapped my arms around her stomach and pulled her onto my lap. I then proceeded to rest my chin on the top of her head. It surprised me how much I loved to do that and how naturally I could do it. And the fact that I could, almost as if Sharika's body was made to compliment mine.

"No, it's…" Sharika started to say before she was cut off.

"It's not that _bad_ and anyways. Sharika's done a billion worse things on her first dates! Like the time she went out with Josh Dardin from her drama class and I – uh, _she_, ended up giving him oral under the table of the restaurant. And he was all 'Lauren, oh, oh, Lauren, you do it so well!' And I have to admit, I _didn't_ a damn fine job!"

Dean and I stared at her incredulously. Lauren gave a guy a blow job underneath the table at a restaurant…

"Oh shut up!" Lauren began to blush. "It's not like Sharika hasn't written worse!"

My interest perked up at the end of that sentence. Sharika has written worse? I know that Sharika loves to write stories. She's even mentioned that she's published some on an internet site. She generally wrote horror stories of her own creation. The titles are Carry, Bridal Gown, Mia and Midnight Curses: A Choice of Destinies. I haven't had time to read them, mostly because Sharika wouldn't let anyone other then herself touch her computer. She's strangely protective of it. Even I let Dean use my laptop at times. Dean lets me drive the Impala. And although she seems totally innocent at first she did have her dirty streak, which I was quite happy for in fact. I was really curious to what she wrote about. She might have used some techniques from it on me if I was correctly catching onto Lauren's drift.

For a person who was an inexperienced virgin Sharika was quite...surprising in bed. Not in a bad way, she was good. Her body was firm, flexible and limber. She had curves in all the right places, smooth, soft skin, long legs for someone her height, and tender, sweet lips. It was probably because she used to be a dancer. But it didn't really answer how she was so good. I can't really ask her that, she'll think I'm insinuating something and then get insulted. It could simply be instinct. It didn't really matter now, does it? The sex is unbelievably great, and well, with the risk of sounding clichéd, magical and wonderful. It was even better that we loved each other.

Lauren got up and ran into her room. After a few shouts and grunts she ran back into the living room with a giant purple book.

Shar stood up unexpectedly. "Lauren! I thought that was in my luggage."

Lauren just grinned evilly and opened the notebook. She looked down at the page, then back up at us with a completely serious expression. I leant forwards, and waited to hear. "I wrapped my – ouch!" The book snapped closed on her pinkie. "_Ouch_, Sharika! I'm bleeding!"

Sharika levitated the purple notebook towards her, then blew it up. Dean and I had covered our heads, since we had predicted what was about to happen.

"Wow, someone's pissed off. And you know what? I don't need it right now, I'm too tired. So can you just shove it away?" Lauren glared angrily at Sharika, and grabbed a tissue from the table, wrapping it around her bleeding finger. It was actually bleeding quite a lot.

I glanced at Sharika, to see her body getting stiffer by the second, her fists clenching by her sides, and her breathing getting faster and sharper. Oh crap.

"No, Lauren I'm not going to deprive myself of feeling emotions. Simple human emotions. If you didn't want to feel my emotions you should have just practiced your powers to begin with."

Sharika's tone of voice was harder than I'd ever heard her use before on anyone; let alone Lauren. They never seemed to get angry at each other. Maybe it had something to do with Sharika's powers, and whatever she'd been thinking this afternoon. She hadn't exactly shared it with me. When I'd asked her, she'd just said it was stupid and had started practicing her teleportation.

If Dean and I didn't stop it now, it could really get ugly.

"Jeez," Lauren said, sweeping her eyes over Sharika's body and moving her head away as though she was mildly revolted. "You're overreacting. Be considerate for once; don't fall into your whole selfish only child spiel."

Dean made a kind of angry cat noise. "Mmmroaawh. Cat fight," he said, leaning forwards and grinning. The girls spun their heads around in unison and glared daggers at him. I'm just really glad I'm not him right now. Dean kept his grin on his face – I've no idea how – and said, "Okay, sorry, continue." He leaned as far away from them as possible, while still trying to look casual.

The girls turned to eye each other again. "Look," Sharika said, "I'm not going to get in a fight with you in front of Sam and Dean, so let's just forget it." She headed towards the doorway, and I sighed in relief, thinking that it was all over.

A small laugh came from Lauren's direction, and I closed my eyes in horror, realizing that she wasn't just going to let it go. "Oh, that's a little bit of a contradiction, wouldn't you say?"

Sharika halted in her path. "Look, we're all tired and frustrated from today, all right? There's no point in discussing this right now, when we'll just get heated up in the moment. We'll just talk about this tomorrow, with calm rational minds."

"See what I mean? You just said that you weren't going to deprive yourself from, what was it? Simple human emotions. And now, here's your chance. What are you doing about it? Running away. I guess I can't expect any different from you though, so yeah, let's discuss it in the morning."

"Fine, you want to discuss right here, right now?" Sharika asked, spinning around to face her. "I'm willing – more than willing."

Oh crap. Dean and I glanced at each other, then leaned even further back in our chairs before looking at the girls again. Should we try to stop this? "Um, guys –"

"I'm so glad, so why don't we just get all our emotions out. Say whatever you want to say, Sharika. I know _I _can hack it."

Sharika laughed. "You, you hack it? You've got to be kidding me. Lauren, you're not even that good of an empath. If you were you would have known how long I've been feeling like this. So don't get all high and mighty just because you think you can feel everyone's feelings because you can't. What emotions have you actually felt, just PMS and hunger? Those aren't real emotions."

"How the hell would you know what real emotions are? You never take the time out to feel any, do you? And excuse me, but who's getting all high and mighty, Miss I'm-So-Perfect-I-Have-All-My-Powers-Completely-Under-Control-Unlike-My-Screwed-Up-Supposed-Best-Friend. I'm sorry if I'm not as rational or cool headed as you are, but I happen to like myself the way I am."

"I don't feel real emotions? I feel them all the time. You just don't notice because you're too busy going," she did a perfect imitation of Lauren's pointed hand gesture, a kind of dance move where her arms stayed close to the body and her fingers were curled down bar the index finger which was pointed up. She moved the hands up and down and made a parody of Lauren's big smile. She adopted a high, falsetto tone of voice, "Oh my god, that guy is like, so totally getting an orgasm under the table, but _damn_ he has a hot ass. Ugh, _Fiona,_ go eat something because I can totally feel your hunger. Sharika, I like that guy, but I think he likes that girl over there, but that girl likes that guy over there, but he likes me, and I don't know what to do because their both so hot, and one has a better ass than the other and the other has a better chest, and I don't know what to do I'm so confused!" She dropped the act, and scowled at Lauren. "The only reason have control over my powers was because I suffered, I strove, I toiled, I did everything I could to gain control over them and it wasn't easy either. I didn't go around all the time, playing the victim like you." She pulled her imitation of Lauren back on. "Oh my _god_, its graduation day and its supposed to be a happy day, but that girl's boyfriend just broke up with her and she's sad which makes me sad, and I hate my stupid powers."

There was a pause as Lauren simply stared at Sharika, a horrified expression on her face. After a second, she seemed to grow larger, and her face lost all emotion except for anger, and contempt. "Suffered? Sharika, you don't even know the meaning of the word. Little Miss Perfect, always had everything in her life perfectly planned out, perfectly falling into place, and, oh, hey, if she gets some supernatural powers, so much the better. It'd just make her totally boring countenance, a tiny little bit interesting. All your powers, all the things that have happened to you? How long did it take you to gain control over them, like three seconds? And just because someone isn't as perfect as you are, and can't do all the positively _wonderful_ things you can, exactly the way you do, you can't stand it. Everything has to go your way. Well, Sharika, I prefer situations that aren't so organized and planned down to last detail – it makes sure my life isn't as boring and pathetic as yours is. You are acting like your powers are some big hardship, but have they ever threatened to drive _you_ insane?"

I took my eyes off the girls and glanced around the room for a second, noticing that things in the motel room were beginning to shake, causing a low rumble to reverberate around the room. As Sharika's anger grew, those items began to shake more violently, threatening to break at any moment.

_Fuck_, we _have_ to stop this.

I made to stand up and stop the fight, but Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. His face was completely serious, and even regretful as he said, "Don't. You'll just make things worse."

∞∞

_Dean_

"Don't. You'll just make things worse."

"Dean," Sam said, and gestured around the room, were the walls, the floors, the ceiling – everything in the room was beginning to shake, all accompanied by a deep ominous sound, like the earth moving. He gave me a worried look, glancing back up to where Sharika stood, her fists clenched and her body so tense it looked like she would implode.

"I know, Sam," I said, watching the two of them looking at each other like they wanted to really hurt and punish each other. "But if you try and do anything now, it will just get worse. It'll come up again later, maybe even in a critical situation."

As angry as Sharika could get, she was still rational. She wouldn't hurt anyone. I have faith in that.

"Every problem I had to face, throughout my life –"

"Oh yeah, you had _sooo many _of those," Lauren interrupted sarcastically.

"_Fights_, _racism_, _Professor_ _Graham_, all of them I had to deal with, with a leveled head. I couldn't get emotional about it – I had to suppress _every single thing_ I was feeling. Every urge, just everything. Because I could have ended up hurting someone. I could have ended up very well killing someone, a multitude of people, just because I got upset. I wasn't allowed to feel anything, _ever_. If I did, people would get hurt. I didn't get any one of the simple human rights that everyone else on this planet is entitled to – why? Because _people would get hurt_. So you think emotionally crippling myself is perfect? That I _planned_ on doing this? Do you think I planned to just sit back and just pretend to be happy when friends got good news, just in case I did damage? And the time you though I didn't care, when your year twelve boyfriend cheated on you? I did care, I wanted him to pay. But I had to stay calm headed because I could've blown him up in my sleep. And then I would have been a murderer. Where does that fit in with my perfect life plan Lauren, where? You're not the only one who has to suffer – don't act so self centered. You could have avoided all this easily if you'd practiced."

I didn't even think – I didn't realize that Sharika dealt with these kinds of things – I never actually thought about it. My respect for her grew tenfold as I watched her, even now, trying to keep a cool head.

"You keep going on about people getting hurt Sharika, but the truth is people get hurt every single day, day in and day out –"

"Lauren, I do realize people get hurt but more people would get hurt – more people, a multitude of them would die, and for what reason? Because my best friend's boyfriend cheated on her? Is that really worth it? I mean think about all the families –"

"_DAY IN AND DAY OUT_, and you know what?? I feel it all. Every single corrupt, messed up, psychopathic, guilty, greedy, depressed, envious, suicidal, jealous, furious feeling that every fucked up human near me is feeling."

"If you got practiced you'd be able to block these feelings!"

Lauren scoffed, "Like you'd know. You talk about hurting people, but two of your best friends are kidnapped by a demon, and having god knows what done to them, and what are you doing to help? Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?"

Now that – that is going way too far.

Everything in the room stopped shaking, the rumbling ceased as Sharika stared in shock at Lauren. Oh shit, this was not a good sign. Lauren, if you have one brain cell do _not_ say anything else. Do NOT say anything else…

"But then again, what should I have expected coming from someone as desperate and pathetic as your self?"

An explosion of energy seemed to burst out from Sharika, and swept through the room to connect with Lauren. My stomach jolted as I watched her fly through the air like a rag doll and land against the wall with a sickening thud – I'd heard thuds like that all too many times in my life. Usually it was me, or Sam getting thrown like that – and from experience, I knew that even if you weren't unconscious, and nothing was broken or cracked, you didn't want to be getting up any time soon.

A pause passed over us, as we all stared at Laurens crumpled body lying on the ground. She – she looks – but Sharika couldn't have – wouldn't have –

"Oh my god," Sharika whispered. She ran over towards Lauren, Sam and I just behind her, as though a spell had been broken, and tried to help her up. "I'm so sorry, Lauren – I just totally lost control –"

"Don't touch me," Lauren said in a totally hollow voice. Her face was completely blank as she pushed herself up from the floor, shrugging Sharika's hands off as though they were contaminated with some vile substance. Not bothering to dust herself off, and refusing to look at any of us, she left the room, her back straight and acting as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. I think I'm the only one that realized the way she held her arm out to the side of her body, as though she didn't want it to graze the rest of her, and the way the fingers of that hand kept twitching involuntarily.

This left the rest of us in a complete silence.

"See, this was what I was trying to say." Sharika said. I didn't know if she was talking to us or to herself. Her face was pale as a ghost, with a mixture of dejection and shock flitting across it. "I'm sorry you two had to see that," she said, her voice as hollow as Lauren's had been.

She immediately disappeared, as she teleported out.

It's amazing, how much one instant can change your perspective on someone.

This is just great – I mean, I never even realized, I never thought about it, what Sharika had to go through, every single day, every single moment she had to keep herself guarded, all for the sake of not hurting people – of protecting strangers – of keeping everyone she cared about safe. Not being allowed to express emotion – for _that_ reason, so as not to kill people with what her emotions unleashed. I mean, I hardly ever expressed mine, but that was a choice not a necessity. And, if I admitted it – because I was afraid about how people would act if I expressed myself. At least I didn't have to worry about my happiness causing an earthquake and killing the very person who'd just made me happy. Or being so furious at someone, for something trivial, and the next second having their intestines and bodily fluids decorating the lounge room walls.

If it was me in Sharika's place, Lauren wouldn't have lasted three hours.

I never thought that she was that vulnerable when it came to her powers; she had always seemed so controlled – which I guess the reason for was just explained today, and proven. The scene that had just occurred threatened to replay over in my head –

– _Lauren's body – so fragile looking – flying like something weightless, insignificant through the air – slamming with a sick thud against the wall – the way my stomach had immediately reacted – my body wanting to rush over to her – scoop her up – check her everywhere – that's if she was still – if Sharika hadn't –_

I tried to imagine, going through my whole life, never being privy to those lapses of weakness that are so easily attributed to our species, never being able to communicate anything emotional, just in case.

_God_.

But then, what about Lauren's side? Not being allowed to feel anything, as opposed to feeling too much? I, for one, know this life's dark aspects…imagine having them thrown in your face every time someone appeared in front of you, their emotions, their urges displayed for your mind and senses like a slab of rotting meat. No wonder she had developed such an extroverted, excessive personality – bubbly, chipper, optimistic. No one wants to have to dwell on the dark sides of life all the time, even if it keeps getting pressed on you. I saw her eyes again, as Sharika formed a pantomime of her, the shock and hurt, as every blow hit home. It was all a guard against the world, and then to have her best friend ridicule her like that – it was no wonder she'd fought back dirty.

Plus her own emotions, she'd had to deal with the suppressed emotions that Sharika had been dealing with for god knows how long. All that combined had made her act recklessly, and she'd almost goaded Sharika into acting like she had.

I don't know how things would have turned out if Lauren hadn't mentioned Sam; all I knew is that she definitely shouldn't have. It had resulted in what had happened here today, and now we had to find Sharika and pacify her – with her powers, god knows what she could be doing.

I swallowed at the thought; taking my eyes off the spot Sharika had just disappeared from, I glanced at Sammy, who also seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"Sam!" I barked, interrupting them. Before we went to find Sharika, I had to deal with Lauren; make sure that she was safe, that in turn she wasn't going to do anything thoughtless. We needed to find Sharika urgently – but Lauren could be taken care of now, so it would be easier to do it like that. Just in case we'd found Sharika and come home, then found Lauren slaughtering innocents, having finally given in to what Royce had said affected most empaths.

On one hand, I had a gut feeling that she was stronger than that – that if anyone could learn to take whatever her powers threw her way, it'd be Lauren. On the other, I didn't want to take any chances with her. Considering how she'd acted so rashly just now, we really had no idea what she'd do.

"What?" Sam asked, shaking his head, and turning to look at me, worry, and anger flitting over his familiar features. He was probably thinking about what Sharika could be doing at this moment too.

"You go get the car started, and think of a way we can look for Sharika. I'll go take care of Lauren. All right?"

He nodded, and I left the motel room, heading towards the one I shared with Lauren. As I went I carefully pulled up all my mental and emotional barriers that kept my feelings hidden even from my brother. Hopefully they'd be enough to keep them to myself, and away from Lauren, so that she wouldn't get even more antagonized.

Fat chance.

∞∞

_Lauren_

Everything was quiet and dark in the room – I'd made sure of that. I hated the light whenever I was feeling as I did now – as though everything in my life threatened to crumble and pile on top of me, burying me beneath its crushing weight.

_Oh no, you'd better stop thinking like this Lauren. Remember – this is what Sharika meant, about you being self-centered and always playing the victim._

I swallowed, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening to fall.

Yes, she was right in some respects – I didn't practice my powers. And the only answer I have for that is – I'm afraid. I'm so, fucking, afraid.

And I've never told her why.

Today wasn't the first time I've been told about the fact that most empaths go insane before their first month is up, coming into their powers. In fact, I knew statistics. Wouldn't I love to see her face if I ever told her that. Me. Statistics. Ha.

97 of acknowledged empaths have killed themselves, killed others, or been committed into an insane asylum within their first month of discovering their powers.

98 of acknowledged empaths don't survive a year coming into their powers, without having one of the acts above happen.

And then, if you are part of the 2 that survives past the first year – there's no information on what happens to you. If you ever learn to 'control' your powers. If you ever become more powerful. Because empaths are so 'rare' – empaths that don't go kooky and most of them that don't become hermits that don't make contact with other people – they never learn to develop their powers in fear of becoming part of the rest of the percentile. As a result nothing has ever been recorded on what happens with empaths – on what they end up being able to do.

I'd procured all this from very well-known sources in the supernatural world – that is, 'famous' hunters, and a scattering of the highly powerful endowed. So I know that if anyone had accurate information, it would be them. And you know what else? When I'd told them my symptoms, because back then I hadn't really known _what_ I was, they'd either treated me as though I was a patient with terminal cancer, or as though I was a patient with leprosy.

I'd never told her this information, in case she started treating me like they did.

And she's telling me to practice? She's telling me that she's the one who's been afraid, who's been suffering? How many books did we get for her this afternoon? Five? And only on her teleportation. How many are there for empaths?

Zero. Zilch. Nada. None.

_I don't _want_ to commit suicide, or become a murderer, or go insane. I don't want to…I'm so scared – and then she – and she –_

I stuffed the corner of one of my pillows into my mouth, to stifle the sobs.

Pride. The thing that had been stopping me from telling her all along was now stopping me from totally expelling my misery, in case one of them came in to check on me.

_Doubtful_.

_Fucking_ – at least she knows what's going to happen with her powers. They become more powerful, sure, but it's predictable. She knows she can control it, at least marginally. But I have _absolutely no idea_ what will happen if I start practicing. What if I become more powerful, but I'm still not able to control when people's emotions come and go in my head? What if I'm never able to block it out?

And how the hell am I supposed to practice anyways? It's not a simple case of moving from room to room in the motel, in the blink of an eye, by myself. I actually have to have other people cooperate with me.

And no way in hell am I going to practice in public.

I tried that, when I was trying to swallow all my fear and do what Sharika told me to because I knew she was more experienced, in the beginning, after I'd discovered what happens to most empaths. When I was trying to be strong, and I kept thinking, _I can do this._ _I'm better than this. If anyone can handle it, it would be me. _

So, I went out by myself, under the excuse of going to see my current boyfriend, and I'd sat at a table in a café, ordered myself a latte, and gotten down to business. I'd sat there, I'd cleared my head, opened my mind and senses, and I'd picked a subject.

I'd chosen an old lady, sitting two tables away, eating some scones and drinking a cappuccino. I'd focused on her.

And sure, she was feeling happy and at peace, and I'd felt the glow of her love for her grandchild, who was buying a muffin from inside the shop. I'd sat there and reveled in it, thinking, _well, this isn't so bad. I _can_ do this after all._

And then as I was taking a sip of my coffee, some guy barged past behind me, and knocked my chair. I think his hand must have brushed the skin that showed above my jeans – because suddenly all these feelings were rocketing through my body.

Bloodlust, greed, and rage. That guy had just raped his girlfriend, and then murdered her. He was off to kill the guy she'd been cheating with.

I felt everything he'd felt, as he violated her. His fury, and glee, and how turned on he was by her screams and the blood spattering on his face when he'd slit her throat. Everything he was planning to do to the guy she'd been seeing on the side.

And because he'd enjoyed it, so did I. Every second.

I'd sat there for ten straight minutes, staring ahead of me going through that process – and then the old lady I'd originally been focusing on had tapped me on the shoulder, and asked if I was okay. I'd been sitting there, with hot coffee pouring onto my lap, and I hadn't even realised – I was too caught up in the dark pleasure of slaughter and rape.

I'd thanked her of course, and left.

I never told anyone.

Every time we'd get into a discussion about practicing my powers I agreed, and then I'd pretend to forget until I actually managed to. Since I was a generally forgetful soul (in most cases I have the memory of a goldfish – approximately three seconds), she never suspected anything.

I'd always tried to keep the atmosphere light about my empathy; such as that scenario she'd brought up in our fight – graduation day. I was supposed to be happy (no more high school!!), but the chick I'd told her about – the one that had just broken up with her boyfriend – had felt more than sad. She'd felt suicidal. And because she did, so did I.

I disappeared during the ceremony, on the pretext of going to make out with Bobby Hilliard under the refreshments table, but I'd actually followed her. Every step I got closer to her had compounded my desire to kill myself, to stop the pain. When I did get to her I was as pale, and shaking as she was. I'd taken her aside, and managed to talk her into counseling – but I had gone through every emotion she had, and afterwards when I came back to Sharika, I'd been even more extroverted and bouncy than usual, trying to hide it, to make up for it. The sorrow and self-hatred was still clinging to me.

That night I'd come the closest I ever had to losing my virginity; I wanted to stop the pain, so I'd started drinking then latched onto some random guy and we'd gone back to his room. If I hadn't been shaken up by his fear that his girlfriend would discover us, I would have done it with him.

There are so many other stories like that, like the other one she'd ridiculed tonight. And then she'd – just – she can't understand. I didn't want to be brought down by all the corruption in this world, so in conjunction with my naturally happy and optimistic nature, I tried to block out even my own feelings, which in turn made me even more irritable than usual, which I also tried to shield from her.

And she dared to tell me that she was suffering? Of course she was, but then telling me that I'm the one playing the victim? I'd always tried to protect her from what people were making me feel, so she wouldn't get worried about me. And then she turns around and says all that.

_God_.

I can see where she'd coming from – lately I have been letting it get to me. Probably because of the Fiona and Joyee thing. But _god_. Does she have to be so derogatory? I can understand that her own powers are scaring her, but she has Sam to turn to now. I don't have anyone, even her because of him. I know I shouldn't have brought him up in our fight; he hadn't had anything to do with it. And I knew damn well I'd deserved to be slammed against that wall. But it still hurt. In more ways than one. I always feel as though I need her more than she needs me, and this event today just added to that feeling. She was right – I am a shit empath. And a shit friend. Otherwise I would've had a clue to how she was feeling before this.

I turned my face into the pillow and shuddered, the tears coming thick and fast now. No one in our group would ever understand what I'm going through. The threat of insanity wasn't hovering over their head, waiting for someone to feel a particularly strong emotion so it could fall.

I felt the familiar feeling of panic start to settle on my chest, squashing it and constricting my lungs. I can't – I can't – _Calm waves on the ocean_, I tried to soothe myself, as everyone always did when I was having an attack. _Visualize…visualize… _I panted, trying to get air inside myself, trying –_ I can't _–_ I can't _–

"Lauren?"

∞∞

_Dean_

"Lauren?" I asked, coming into the room. It was darker than it had been last night – the curtains were closed, and the door had been until I opened it. There was a lump under the covers of the bed that I assumed to be her – it was moving.

Maybe it's just part of the motel's wildlife.

"What?" a muffled whisper came from the lump. Its voice was hoarse, croaky and breathless. Just what you'd expect from someone who's crying – or has just been doing so.

_Fuck_… what do I do?

I can't just – "Uh…"

"Look, just leave me alone," the voice came again, and I saw the lump move as though Lauren was turning away from me.

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "What did you expect when you brought Sam into the fight? That she'd go, you're so right Lauren, and you two would kiss and make up?"

She froze. "Fuck off."

"Look – I can't just leave you alone like this."

And I couldn't. I knew I needed to go look for Sharika, with Sam, but to leave her like this… it just seemed –

"I said _fuck off_, Dean. I know you want to be looking for Sharika, so just _go and do it_, and stop acting as though you _actually_ want to be here."

I narrowed my eyes. "Lauren –"

"FUCK OFF!" she yelled, and I heard her choke back a sob. I closed my eyes, and left the room.

I found Sam inside the Impala, with a map and a string with a crystal on the end in his lap. What the hell? "Let's go," I said simply, with once last glance back at the motel. I'd just have to hope that she wouldn't do anything to hurt herself, or anyone else.

Yeah, as I'd said before – fat chance.

∞∞

_Sam _

"Let's go," Dean growled, as he got behind the wheel of the Impala.

I looked up at him, noticing his flustered appearance. I didn't say anything though, the fight that just happened shook the hell out of the both of us, and out of the motel room, I don't even want to think of the impact that it had on Sharika. The shocked look on her face as Lauren flew through the air, and landed on the wall. She instantly pushed aside all her anger, all the frustration and stress that's been built on for god knows how long, and replaced it with real and genuine worry for her best friend.

Lauren, I'm guessing, by the uncomfortable look on my brother's face, was crying back in his and her room. Not that I can blame her, she was demeaned by her best friend in front of, reality wise, two people she met five days ago, and then slammed against a thick, and very solid wall. Although she put on a brave façade as she calmly, and spitefully, walked away from the scene, I doubt that there's anyway Lauren would be willing to forgive Sharika anytime soon.

And Sharika…? I have no idea what she could be doing at this moment. I don't think that she's going to cause much harm to anyone right now. She seemed so broken and barren when she left. Almost as if she had emptied, or drained, all her previous emotions lost in the moment that she stared at the fragile, crumbled body of what was Lauren McMartin. Her fiery anger, her scornful hate, all dissipated in that one moment. She wouldn't go on a rampage now, to release any remnants of rage that was left lingering inside her body. She wouldn't. I know her. She'd be too scared of what would happen to anyone else. She already hurt her best friend, what chance would a complete stranger stand against the built up frustration that probably took years and years to create.

But I knew that I had to get to her as soon as possible. As did Dean.

I vividly remember my stomach jumped ten stories high when I realized what must have happened. There was no denying it. Sharika threw Lauren. The silence was almost overwhelming, when everyone stopped to breathe, when they stopped to absorb what had just occurred. We all just stopped.

What Sharika said, I never thought that her powers would affect her like that. I knew she was still overly conscious with her powers, but never did I take a moment to think that she had to live like that, ever since she got them. Suppress every feeling, every thought, just everything she's ever felt. Just to keep the world safe. It hardly seemed fair. It wasn't fair.

What about me? What about how she felt about me? Did she suppress what she felt for me? Can it be true that I love her more then she loves me just so she can keep strangers, people who she has never met, from feeling anguish?

No, I refuse to believe that. She does love me as much as I love her. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she acts around me. In everything she does, she does love me.

But even though she was trying her best to keep everything in, there was still more to the story then she was letting on. We needed to talk about it, we needed a safe way to get her to vent out everything she's kept in. But for that we needed her.

"Okay, see how Sharika said that she tries stuff from magic shows and books and stuff. Well she told me that she got this idea from Charmed –" I began to say before I was cut off.

"_Charmed_, that chick show!?!" Dean exclaimed incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me. Can't you just call her cell?"

"She left her cell in our motel room, and look," I told him, my stern face matching perfectly with the tone of voice I was using now. "It does work, Sharika's done it before. Anyway, I tipped the end of the crystal in a vial of Sharika's blood –" This time I was interrupted by the disbelieving look on Dean's face.

"She…?" Dean trailed off.

"Yeah, she has three vials of her blood and about six of Lauren's stacked at the very end of her suitcase. She keeps them there just incase of situations, such as the one we are in now. She even has a vile for each of us, which has already been filled."

"How'd she –" he started to ask, with a very confused expression on his face.

"I don't know dude. But back to the situation at hand, I tipped the end of the crystal in the small vile and got about a drop's worth of her blood on the end of this. And then put the crystal around the map, after that it pointed to Heathlock Cliff. I think she's there," I finished off.

I was more worried after I found out this tidbit of information. She wasn't planning on jumping off, was she? No, she wouldn't. If she was scared of her powers she'd just go live the life of a hermit, refusing to let anyone ever find her. She would have cast a spell to block any magic to find her. Like the Demon was doing with Dad. But if she didn't care if she was found, it only leads to one possible conclusion. She really was planning on killing herself. She's not the type to do that, she's nowhere near the suicidal type. But every person has their limits, and I'm guessing that witnessing herself actually living her worst nightmare, her accidentally using her power to hurt people, especially her best friend, would be her limit.

_No! She won't do anything of that sort. She's strong, it's been proven to you time and time again. _

"I'm guessing she's just blowing off some steam there," I suggested to Dean, deciding to believe the voice in my head.

"How far is it?" He asked, as he turned on the engine.

"It's about a three hours drive from here," I answered, I showed him the quickest route available. He nodded as he followed my directions, slowly memorizing them in his head. "We have to get there quickly, before she hurts herself."

"Or anyone else," Dean muttered under his breath, as he drove ahead, the map showing him which direction to go.

"What was that?" I asked with a great deal of annoyance evident in my voice.

"Nothing," Dean lied. He looked straight ahead out on the road in front of him.

My own anger grew as the silence prolonged the tension in the air. "No, tell me what you just said," I almost ordered him, sounding a lot like dad at the moment.

"You heard, and you can't blame me Sammy. You saw what she did!" He told me, glancing at me through the corners of his eyes.

"What we saw was a complete accident!" I snapped, defending Sharika. "You saw her expression when Lauren was on the ground."

"Not as well as I saw Lauren's expression when Sharika threw her into a wall." Dean argued.

My mouth dropped open. He actually – I can't believe he thinks – she ISN'T!

"Dean," I spat out vehemently. "Sharika is a human, this night only proved it. She isn't dangerous. She's not going to go massacre completely random people. She –"

Dean sighed, interrupting me. "Look Sam, I don't want to get into this with you now. I know Sharika isn't dangerous, that she didn't mean to hurt Lauren. But the matter of the fact is that she lost her cool and did hurt Lauren, let me finish," he said, as I opened my mouth to argue. "She did hurt Lauren, no matter how unintentional it was. I couldn't blame her, Lauren was being a bitch to her back there, especially when she brought you in. If I were Sharika I wouldn't have stopped at slamming her against the wall. And this has to be what? Years, of frustration just blowing out of her at once. I can understand that, but you have to acknowledge that there is a slight, no matter now slight, possibility that Sharika would be taking her anger out on something now. I personally don't think she is, quite the opposite. She's probably just staring into space, wondering how she could have let this happen, and blaming herself for it. But either way we need to find her fast, incase she decides to do a Houdini on our ass, and blocks any form of magic to find her."

I was speechless, I never thought of Dean to possess this kind of understanding. I developed a whole new level of respect towards my older brother. But how did he know that –

"Because it's what you would have done." Dean said, answering my unspoken question.

I nodded, feeling extremely anxious to get to Shar. I looked out ahead of me, watching the lines in the middle of the road passing by, and hoping to god that Sharika's okay.

∞∞

_Sharika_

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

The same accusing voice constantly reiterated those exact words in my mind, like a never ending stream of malicious truth.

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

I didn't mean to! I argued back. I didn't want to!

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

STOP IT! STOP! I DID NOT WANT TO DO IT! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! STOP IT, PLEASE, JUST STOP IT!

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

I lowered myself onto the grassy ground, my hands holding onto the sides of my throbbing head. My breaths were coming out quick and shallow with a mass of coughing fits thrown into it.

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I felt a sudden drop land on my right shoulder and looked up at the sky. There were clouds everywhere, covering the only source of light available in this isolated area. The sea, which stretched as far out as the eye could see, was beginning to get violent. The large waves crashed into the near by beach, almost as if it were whipping it, punishing the sand for something it did wrong. Lightning struck and thunder boomed through the land seconds later, causing the pebbles to vibrate off the ground. The rain drops started to fall harder and harder on to the soil.

Perfect, this was the perfect weather to match my mood. Dark and pitiful. The anger and rage displayed by the sea and storm symbolized how Lauren felt. And the feelings Sam and Dean must have towards me. Not that I can blame them, it is my fault. Everything that has happened, from the moment I was born and I was cursed with this supposed gift. And now this gift has resulted in _bestowing _Janet with the joys of a wheelchair, and with the vacation Joyee and Fiona were on, and now my best friend, and the love of my life hating my guts. Yes, yes, this is an absolutely wonderful, no magnificent gift to have. A positive pleasure that I was bequeathed with.

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

I lay down on the sodden grass, letting the rain, as they hit me and slowly slid off my body and onto the earth, take away bits and pieces of anything I was feeling. I can't let myself feel, I can't. I'll hurt someone else I love too.

My thoughts consumed my head, remembering every vivid detail, showing me the same scene over and over and over again in my head, like a broken movie reel which showed the same footage nonstop.

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._

As the argument between herself and I got heated memories of the past flew into my head, emotions I had experienced as far back as when I was twelve were strongly surging through my body. As I fought, all the bad things that happened to me, all the good, all the interesting, stressful, enjoyable, mundane, fascinating, annoying, funny, every single available emotion out there, compounded by each other, all of it just burst into me, threatening to implode in the most violent of ways. As all these strong emotions swam through my mind, I argued with Lauren. And then it became all too much to bear, especially when Lauren called me pathetic and desperate.

As quickly as it came, the rain stopped. Leaving a messy and dirty earth behind. But yet, the lightning still strike the sea, almost with a vengeance, and thunder rumbled throughout the land. The sky and the sea were still enraged, even though they did not provide gods tears to be saturated by the dirt on earth.

Oh all the people I've ever met in my life, never would I have suspected Lauren to end up saying such hurtful things to me. Never.

But then again, my imitation of her did also fall into the category of "What a Bitch Would Do."

I sighed, as my mind replayed the same event over.

I can't believe that my powers caused me to hurt someone else again. Although she wouldn't suffer any long term physical agony, it was much worse then the other time. She didn't do anything to deserve it. She was the only one there for me, throughout the whole Fiona and Joyee thing. True, she didn't seem to notice how I was suffering along with her. She probably just assumed that I was treating the situation like an essay. Something she's accused me of many times. (Treating life like an essay I mean). I couldn't blame her though, I never let myself get emotional, for the reasons I outlined in the fight.

This time, other then self respect, I lost the respect, and the love of two people I love the most in this world.

I hurt her. I hurt my only other best friend left in this world, I couldn't rule out the possibility that Fiona and Joyee might already be dead. Now, not only did I lose her, I lost Sam. Sam, the one good thing that arisen from this whole screwed up situation. The _one_ good thing in my life. The only person who could keep me stable, who knew how I felt before this whole argument. If they didn't hate me, they must be afraid of me. I suddenly felt like a boarder-line abusive mother who just crossed the line and beat her child for the first time ever.

If they didn't hate me already, they must surely fear me by now, right?

The harsh wind from the south blew fiercely, blowing wet strands of hair into my face, it stung my skin. I looked up blankly at the lightless, cloudy sky.

_You hurt her, you hurt your best friend. You hurt Lauren._


	20. You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

**You've Got To Be Kidding Me.**

_Can you forgive me again?  
I don't know what I said  
But I didn't mean to hurt you  
I heard the words come out  
I felt that I would die  
It hurt so much to hurt you  
Then you look at me  
You're not shouting anymore  
You're silently broken  
I'd give anything now  
to kill those words for you_

Forgive Me – Evanescence

_Sam_

"Finally," Dean sighed as the car swerved on the banks of the roads we were on. We arrived at Sharika's current location. There was an abundance of tree's littering the side of the banks, blocking any direct eye contact to the Cliff overhanging the ocean. It would be the perfect place to reflect on life. There weren't any towns close by. It was isolated, peaceful and totally secluded from the worries of modern society.

Without answering him, I leapt out of the car and ran. I was expecting the usual plea of 'Sammy, wait up'. It never came though, but then again, even if it did I wouldn't have stopped. Not even for a second.

Soon afterwards I heard the thuds of Dean's rapid footsteps trailing my own.

I just wish that I was here in a different situation, and with a different purpose and intentions than that I had now. It'd be an ideal place to spend time with Sharika.

_God, please let her be alright!_ I prayed in my head as I dodged past the tall trees and ran towards the cliffs. My eyes urgently searched out in front of me.

"There she is!" I heard Dean yell from behind me. I glanced back behind me to see which direction his attention was pointed, then immediately followed his line of sight._ There she was._ Sharika, sitting on a rock, looking serenely up at the sky. She was surrounded by darkness but there was no mistaking it, it was definitely her. She looked tranquil, as she stared up at the cloudy sky thinking about the events which occurred today.

_Thank God she isn't hurt. _

"Shari-" I began to call out to her, but it was too late as she teleported.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Dean groaned from beside me. I couldn't help but feel the same way. We drove three hours to get here, and as soon as we do and are about ten yards away from her she teleports elsewhere. _Not_ our lucky day.

But the bigger and more pressing issue was where she teleported. She could have gone anywhere seeing how her power was virtually unlimited. A sinking feeling in my stomach was created as I thought of the number of things Shar could do, even after she had thought things over. She could be bargaining with Demons to get rid of her powers. It wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded, I mean, she did just negatively use her powers against a person she'd been best friends with since they were fourteen or fifteen. Unintentional as it was, she'd still be afraid that she'd do it again, and incase she ever did, she needed to get rid of her powers.

"It's ok, we still have the map and crystal in the car," I reassured him. He was probably thinking along the same lines as me. "Let's see where she is now." We raced back to the Impala; once there I pulled the passenger door open and scrabbled wildly around the floor, grabbing both items. I laid the map down on the seat, and circled the crystal around it.

_Please god, please, don't let her do anything stupid!_

The crystal momentarily glowed, then shot to a specific point on the map.

"You've got to be _fucking _kidding me!" Dean shouted, and aggressively pulled himself into the driver's seat. I had to agree with him for the second time tonight, as my eyes perceived the coordinates of Sharika's current location. I knew exactly how he was feeling; I was feeling about three times as worse. "Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for round two."

Sharika had teleported back to the motel.

∞∞

_Lauren_

I blinked. The room was in complete darkness, even the neon glare of the lights across the street weren't shining in here.

Did Dean close the –

And then I remembered, as I felt the soggy, wet material of the pillow under my cheek.

_I wonder what time it is,_ I thought, then reached out to the nightstand, where I'd dumped my phone, and everything else in my pockets. Flipping it open, I saw the digits 2:37 blinking back at me and sat up, stretching out of my fetal position._ I must have cried myself to sleep…Was Dean sleeping in the lounge room?_

I pushed myself out of the bed, where Dean definitely wasn't, and padded into the lounge. The couch was bare.

He – he wasn't here?

The room automatically seemed darker, larger, scarier. I felt like a little kid, wandering around their house at night, needing to go to the potty. The shadows concealed monsters and ghosts – every creak was someone slipping up behind me.

_Ridiculous_, I scolded myself. _You've never been afraid of the dark. He's probably in the same room with Sam and Sharika, doesn't want to be near me. _

I recalled shouting at him to fuck off. He didn't really seem the type to take it literally. I mean… would he tell the others? I didn't really want to be left alone, as I'd told him. They wouldn't just leave me here, would they? Have they… But I… _No, they wouldn't. Stop being an idiot. _

They'd leave me alone in this room though._ Can't stand to be in the same fucking motel room._ I swallowed, and shook my head violently. _Stop being an idiot. It's not like you can blame them. _

I slipped into the kitchen to check out how we were food wise. I could really kill for some ice cream… Not literally. I'm not a murderer. _Yet_. I flipped the light switch and opened the door to the freezer. There was one ice cream inside, right next to a scary looking TV dinner. I avoided it like the plague, and grabbed the ice cream, checking the use-by date.

Just my luck. Over due. Only by two days – but its me. I won't touch anything that's over due, it's just icky. And I do not want to get food poisoning. I won't take the chance. I chucked both the ice cream and the TV dinner (using a tea towel) into the bin and tapped my chin.

_Where can I get ice cream at this late hour? Or should I say early…?_

Well, if Sharika hadn't made me move out…there's always ice cream in _our_ fridges… I could drive the car to a supermarket – the keys, I need the – I patted my pockets, then remembering, ran back into the bedroom. They weren't on the bedside table. They must have –

– _a sickening thud as my back, shoulders, head cracked into the wall – pain shooting through –_

They must have fallen out.

This meant that both keys were in my old room – now Sam and Sharika's. And if I went there to get my keys, I might as well just eat their ice cream. I know they have some – I saw Dean eating one 'sarvo. _Choc chip_…

She owed me. It's my ice cream too, besides. I'll just go –

I grabbed my jacket from where I'd thrown it on the floor, and slipped out, remembering to lock the door behind me. I walked calmly over to number 15, and stood outside of it, staring at the doorknob.

_Just reach out. She won't hurt you. They won't hurt you. It's only ice cream. _

I felt the pain in my shoulders, and especially my left arm, a dull throbbing that had started up as soon as I'd woken. When I'd first picked myself up from the floor it had been this sharp ache, like a full scale burn, all across the area. When I was lying in the bed, it had been almost bearable. _I bet I'm bruised all across my back – everywhere that slammed into the wall. What if she – stop being a chicken. _

I reached out and held the doorknob. _Maybe it's locked _–

It wasn't. I opened it, and before I lost my courage, slipped inside, and closed it silently behind me. _Kitchen, kitchen, _I thought to myself, waiting for my eyes to adjust. For once I was thankful Sharika was such a neat freak. There wouldn't be anything to trip over, or knock over on the floor, like there was in the room Dean and I resided in. What, two days of living together? And already it looked as though we'd been living there for a _very_ messy month.

My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see the hulking shapes of the couch and its chairs. I listened, but I couldn't hear any breathing – like Dean's. When Dean slept, it sounded like a kind of snuffling, and when I'd first heard it, I'd just sat there next to the couch listening to it for a while. It was so – that was yesterday morning – the first time he'd slept on the couch. It was meant to be my turn last night.

Where was he then?

I shook my head, refusing to care, and skirting all the furniture, headed into the kitchen. I spotted the refrigerator shape right away – it almost made me scream, it reminded me so much of a demon we'd fought in Minnesota – I can never remember their names… I don't know, it was just huge, and threw rocks, and we had to make some sort of potion to kick its ass because even Sharika's powers wouldn't work against it.

_Not like they worked against you anyways…_

I sighed, and opened the freezer door. Inside was carefully stacked frozen goods; a tub of choc chip ice cream, frozen peas, and two trays of meat. There was even an apple pie.

I reached for the ice cream, but just as my fingers were about to touch it, my pinkie brushed the side of the freezer. It was the pinkie that Sharika had slammed the book on and made bleed, the one that had started the whole fight. If I hadn't got hurt, I wouldn't have gotten bitchy.

Then again, the fight would have just popped up later, maybe even while we were in a dangerous situation.

"Damnit!" I hissed, pulling my hand out, and turning away from the fridge, clutching it and bending over, an instinctual protective impulse. I shook my hand up and down, trying to remove the pain, then stuck my pinkie in my mouth. "Damnit…" I whispered again, around it, then turned back to the freezer. The door had slammed closed. But it was a muffled sound, so I don't think it would have woken anyone.

I opened it again, my pinkie still in my mouth, and holding the door open with my shoulder, reached for the ice cream tub with my other hand.

∞∞

_Dean_

The speedometer on the dashboard read one hundred and twenty miles per hour in sixty miles per hour zone, but as far as I was concerned, it was nowhere near fast enough to get us to where we needed to be.

If I was worried before, when there had been the slight, minimal possibility of Sharika hurting herself, it was nothing compared to now. It had already been proven that she could hurt Lauren, and the two of them were so furious at each other earlier, I wouldn't put it past them to kill each other. The only thing that had stopped them before, for all we know, was the presence of Sam and me.

There's no telling what they were doing now. Although Sharika did regret (it was quite obvious) what she did, if Lauren said anything else stupid Sharika might use her powers against her again, and then probably hurt herself as well, not believing she could do the same thing twice in the same day.

I glanced over at my brother, seeing him staring ahead at the road with the same intensity I felt on my face. We were both internally urging my baby to go faster, harder, to get back to the motel in time.

_He's as worried about Sharika as I am about Lauren. _

Well, actually more so, because he's in love with Sharika –

From behind us I heard the wail of police sirens, and saw the red and blue flash of them in my rearview mirror. There was no way we'd be getting out of this one.

_Fuck. _

∞∞

_Sharika_

I teleported back to the motel, as I'd started to get a chill from my wet clothes, and since I'm very prone to sickness, I didn't think it was wise to tempt the fates. I get sick due to the change of weather, it's because I didn't eat my vegetables as a child, now I have a very weak immune system.

I'd almost gotten a cold last night anyways, so it was best if I just changed my clothes now. In any case, I was sick and tired of moping around up there, it was completely pointless and unnecessary.

Anyways, my seclusion and isolation from the world, which was the only reason I had chosen that area in the first place, was threatened when I heard a car pull over on the banks of the road. The people driving the car would have found me. And god knows what kind of people they might have been. They could have ended up robbing me, not that I had anything on me, but they wouldn't know that. And when they did find out, they would have ended up killing me so I wouldn't tell anyone. That's the sick world we live in today, a sad world filled with horrid people, like me.

I needed to do something constructive. Get this thing all sorted out with Lauren once and for all, if she didn't completely hate me right now. Which I'm betting that she did.

But it was too late to do anything about it right now, I don't want to wake her up for no reason, she'd get even more pissed at me. If that was still possible, I don't doubt it isn't. I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see me again and completely cut ties with me. I did a horrible thing to her. There was no excuse for my actions.

I won't bother trying to make any excuses. There isn't any point in trying to do so, especially when everything was so clearly my entire fault. It wasn't even a grey scale fight, wholly black and white. I lost my cool, I was weak and couldn't handle, so I broke down. What a surprise, I'm a weak person.

The frustration that I let out today was build up from when I first got my powers, and the angst the Janet situation caused me, added with practically every single emotion in this entire world screaming and making my throbbing head feel like it was going to split. Just blinding, echoing pain. Lauren had even started to look blurry as the heap of emotions overcame my senses. Numbing any kind of control I had over my powers, relinquishing all my efforts to try.

I couldn't see straight, no matter how much I tried. She looked like a dark figure with fluffy blonde hair.

All I remember now was that I wanted to knock myself out to get rid of the pain, it seemed like a very practical and effective solution. Instead, I end up knocking an innocent bystander, who played almost no part in this.

I hate myself.

What about Sam? When I teleport back here do I sleep in bed or on the couch? Did he even bother looking for me or did his love for me evaporate when he saw me committing that heinous act? Even if his love for me disappeared he would still try to look for me. When he couldn't find me he probably stopped trying and went to bed. I suppose Dean did the same thing.

I'm guessing that he hated me too now, along with Dean who would have two reasons to hate me. One, it'd be his natural inclination, he'd probably even think that I was dangerous or something. Two, to stick up for Lauren no matter what. Although he was in total denial about it, it was really obvious to see, he liked her, and she liked him.

Sweet, eh?

They'd be living together soon enough, after they get over themselves and confess their feelings, and then Sam would go back to Stanford where'd he'd meet a tall, and beautiful girl, just like he deserves. And he'll be immensely happy with her. I'll be living in a small, ratty, pathetic excuse of an apartment alone, emotionless and friendless. Just like I deserved. A total recluse from the world. I'll be miserable, and always thinking about what I did have, while everyone else was happy with their own lives, having forgotten about me. And if I happen to glimpse or lay eyes on Lauren at school, or anywhere else, or even meet Dean or Sam at a store somewhere, they'd ignore me and walk past me as if I were invisible, like I was some complete stranger who played no part in their lives once upon a time, like I left no impact. An easily disposable piece of garbage that came into their lives as easily as it came out.

That is what I am after all, garbage, dirt. Might as well be treated like one.

There are not enough worlds in the English language to explain how much I hate myself right now.

I landed in the middle of the living room, leaving a large wet patch on the floor. I didn't care as much as I usually would at this moment. A muffled thump sounded behind me and I heard someone rummaging through the refrigerator.

_Sam?_ _Dean?_

I turned around to face whomever it was, bracing myself for the barrage of scolding, blame and the inevitable harsh voice in which they ask me to leave and no longer taint them with my presence.

I switched on the light, and blinking as my eyes adjusted realized who it was.

"_Lauren_?"

∞∞

_Lauren_

I turned around at the call of my name and spotted Sharika in the middle of the living room.

_What happened to __**her**_I thought to myself, blinking in the sudden harsh light, emitting from the single, bare bulb in the kitchen ceiling. _She looks as though she's been tied up to a semi-trailer, then dragged behind it through a mud field and back, just as it starts to rain cats and dogs. _

Sharika looked like a half dead mouse, her hair in matted, muddy tendrils, her wet clothes sticking to her body, a piece of grass sticking her left wrist, along with more mud. But more than that, she looked as though she'd aged ten years – her eyes sunken and red rimmed, deep purple bruises beneath them.

_What the hell is she doing, looking like that? Doesn't she know how easy it is for her to get sick? She'll get a chill from those wet clothes, and then – _

And just like that, I realised.

I'd forgiven her.

I was more worried about her getting sick, than I was about her hurting me, or her anger, or anything else. I still trusted her around me, I wasn't scared at all. (Okay, maybe a little. But it was only because of the bruises, and I didn't want to get her mad or hurt again, like earlier, by saying something idiotic and bitchy.) I would always trust her. And I knew that we'd sort things out, just like we always did. I can never stay angry at her, and vice versa. We're just like that with each other. I mean, I'm not like that with hardly anyone else, except maybe my mum, and even then we hold grudges for a while after and snap at each other.

With Sharika, it was always easy to solve our problems, because we understood each other so well, always saw the other's point of view.

Then again, this was the biggest fight we'd ever had, except for maybe that one in university. And that was based on a misunderstanding, not on our powers. I'd been blind to what she was feeling, and I hadn't told her everything I knew about my powers, and there was no excuse for either of those offenses.

Maybe it wouldn't be like it always is.

Maybe this time – I mean, maybe it's not fixable? Maybe she doesn't want to fix it? If it were me, I'd hate myself pretty bad right now. All the bitchy things I'd said flashed through my head and I winced, and then looked away from her in shame. I wouldn't want to be my friend, if I were her. God, bringing Sam into it? What _had_ I expected, as Dean had asked me earlier? Nothing? To leave the room, my nose held high, totally unscathed? And the fact that she was letting me in and all her emotions were flooding me, conjoined with my own anger and biases is no excuse. I just – I went too far.

I wouldn't blame her if she asked me to leave now, or slammed me into a wall again.

I deserved it.

I looked back up at her, to see her studying me in the same cautious fashion that I was studying her. Should I make the first move? Or should I let her? Should I –

"I'm sorry!" we both blurted out at the exact same time. "No, you – no, I insist – well, I just –"

I let out a little laugh, and then covered my mouth as we continued to trip over each other's apology. She just smiled back, her tired face lighting up in that familiar expression that I'd been seeing for more then seven years. I couldn't imagine that we wouldn't get over this fight. I mean, how could we not? It was _us_.

To hide my smile, and just in case she didn't – in case she was – I turned back to the freezer, which had closed again, shaking my head. I opened the door again, and removed the ice cream from it, moving across to the bench and grabbing a spoon out of the drawer.

∞∞

_Sam_

The barred door slammed closed in our faces by the buff security guard, and I heard Dean grunt beside me. "This is just great!" he said angrily.

For the third time tonight I agreed with Dean. It had to be some kind of record.

This predicament _has_ _got_ _to_ _be_ the world's shittiest cosmic joke. I mean think about it, we sped to save the lives of two people we care for and now we have to spend a night in jail. Talk about irony. This is all because Mr. Smart Ass couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"And why did you say that to him?" I asked, Dean, exasperated at the direction the night had taken.

At first Dean had tried to charm his way out of the situation, but finally had gotten pissed off at the time we were wasting by talking to the plump patrol officer.

It was something along the lines of '_Look, officer, we have important issues to deal with right now, something your tiny brain can not comprehend. So why don't you hop back onto your motorcycle there tubby, and as a tip, lay off the fatty foods. You really could do without.' _So instead of getting a fine and some demerit points taken off Dean's fake license, we were thrown in here for the night, '_for uncooperative behavior with an officer of the law'. _

Now we had no way of getting to Sharika and Lauren, to stop the fight that would no doubt ensue as soon as they saw each other. This is horrible! God knows what things they might be doing to each other! Would they be rational and try to work things out? I doubt it, they were so mad at each other, and the tension would only increase now that Dean and I weren't there.

An unpleasant rerun of what occurred played in my head, only reminding me of the damage that could follow now that they were privately fighting. My stomach churned at the mere thought of it. And what if it did happen and some one were to notice it? And then called the police over a domestic violence case? Then where would that leave Sharika and Lauren? How would Sharika be able to explain throwing Lauren through a window, considering her small and delicate frame? And how much worse could it get now that Dean and I won't be able to help at all?

I had to contact them some way, but how? The 'tubby' officer was now so pissed off at Dean that he wouldn't do us any favors. All I could do was hope that they'd both act responsible, especially Lauren. Dean and I've already seen how broken Sharika was; the only thing that could light her fuse again would be Lauren saying something extremely nasty to her. So please Lauren, for once use your common sense and don't piss Sharika off!

I held in my urge to sigh, I knew that Lauren, of all people, does not know when to shut up.

All I want is Shar to be safe, in my arms, and be happy. For her to smile and laugh, not sit miserably in the rain.

"Ummm…" I heard Dean from behind me. I hadn't heard him sound this awkward since the first time he ever asked a girl out. I think he was five. "I don't bat for your team dude. I'm all hetero! Tits, boobies! You know, knockers and all that!"

I turned around to see him slowly backing away with his hands up, trying to create as much space as he could between himself and another prison-mate who was advancing on Dean. He had an almost hungry look in his eyes.

I laughed. The direness of the situation was momentarily forgotten as I viewed the truly scared expression on my brother's face. Demons, witches, and ghouls, these things Dean Winchester could handle in a blink of an eye. But sex starved male inmates, a totally different thing all together.

Dean backed himself into a corner, and began to panic as he had nowhere else to move. The tall, lanky man with a goatee licking his lips as his eyes went over Dean's body.

My laughter increased as I heard Dean try to talk his way out of it.

"Uh – Look man, I – I have genital warts, itchy little bastards and –"

A sudden pang struck the back of my head. I turned away from the hilarious scene of my brother's discomfort and looked around the floor to see what had hit me.

There was a pencil lying on the floor next to my feet. I looked around to see who threw it; my eyes sought out a tall man, about six foot six, and about three hundred and something pounds, with a shiny bald head. He was glaring at me, a peculiar look in his eyes. "You dropped my pencil," he accused me in a deep and harsh voice.

"No, someone threw it at me!" I defended myself nervously. This guy was _huge_.

He continued on as though he had not been interrupted, looking me up and down. I felt goose bumps prickle up and down my spine as he opened his mouth again. "Now, bend over and pick it up."

∞∞

_Lauren_

I opened the container of ice cream, as Sharika stood behind me blabbering about being sorry, and it was all her fault, and if I never forgave her she'd understand, she hated herself too.

"– Lauren you seriously don't know how sorry I really am, and –"

"Look, Sharika," I said, interrupting her. "I'm going to tell you to stop blaming yourself, even though you're not going to listen. I blame me too – it's a very blame-y situation. Anyway, it's not your fault, its mine. I was being an idiot, and making you angry on purpose." I'd told her years ago, that one of my missions in life was to actually make her _feel_ something – I guess I succeeded.

"Lauren, I should have been controlling myself, okay, then this wouldn't have –"

"Oh, right, because everyone can do that all the time," I butted in sarcastically. I looked at her steadily, knowing what she'd say even before she said it. It was us – a whole cycle of self blame and recrimination, where our opinions wouldn't change anyway. I'd still say it was my fault, and she'd do the same.

"I should have been able to, I mean, I've been doing it my whole life –"

"Which is why this problem occurred – you know, besides me being all bitchy and bringing Sam into it. I don't really feel like that, by the way."

"Well, you were right. I only did meet Sam five days ago, and I guess I just got so caught up and missed the reality of the situation…"

We looked at each other, sad half smiles forming on our faces. "Yeah, well, you don't hold all the responsibility for this yourself. If I was in love like you are with Sam, I'd be completely selfish and thoughtless too." She gaped at me, and I grinned. "Kidding! Besides…" I paused, and bit my lip, looking down at the floor, evading her eyes. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

"What do you mean? Does it have anything to do with Fiona and Joyee?" Sharika asked, confused.

"No! No. Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

I had to make light of the situation – I mean, it's me. "I'm a man," I said in hushed tones and laughed at the look on her face. When I'd calmed down a little I said, "Okay, okay. It's about my empathy. I haven't told you – everything. That I know, anyways." Sharika kind of shrugged as I paused, motioning for me to continue. "Well, you know…yesterday, with Royce, it wasn't the first time I'd heard about the whole, me, going insane thing. You remember, about the time we'd first discovered my powers? Well…I kind of…I went and saw people. About it." I was really struggling to tell her this – my protective instincts, combined with the need to keep all of my weaknesses to myself, was clogging my throat and making it hard for me to get the words out. I mean, I'd kept this huge thing a secret for how many years now?

"People? What people?"

"Educated, supernatural-ly people." I told her a couple of the names of people I'd seen – ones that were very renowned in the supernatural world.

"Oh," she said, clearly stumped at my admission. "What did they say?"

"Well, more than Royce, that's for sure. I know _statistics_," I said, letting out a little laugh. She just stood there, waiting for me to continue. I let out a breath, then breathed in deeply, trying to calm myself enough to get this out. "Well, 97 percent of known empaths have committed suicide, or gone psychotic or just the regular, home grown kind of crazy. Same for 98 percent of them in their first year."

"Lauren, you've been an empath for _years_. You haven't done any of those things."

"Only because I've been blocking it off. That's what makes the two percentile able to survive – they become hermits and never practice their powers, in fear of doing something like that."

"Lauren, your powers will naturally progress. You can't block them off; they'll become stronger on their own. So you haven't been blocking it off, you've just been under the illusion that you have. I've noticed over the years that your powers have grown stronger. You won't be able to control it much longer, unless you practice – and if you don't that will lead you down the inevitable path of insanity anyways."

"Wow, melodramatic much?" I asked. Then I sighed. "Sharika, you don't know that I'd be able to control it. No one knows. There is _nothing_ on empaths. No one knows if I'll be able to control what I'm feeling. What if I become stronger from practicing anyway, and I'm still not able to block it off? I know for sure I'd go insane – it's bad enough now, even though it's sporadic and I can't predict it at all."

"Lauren, you can't handle it now, and it's getting stronger – even you've said it. At least if you practice there's a chance that you will be able to control it and block the emotions that you don't want. But if you don't practice at all, you will end up insane. And I will have to pay for your rooming fees at the mental institution."

I laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny – not at all. The actual chance of me going insane that is – it's one of my biggest fears. "Right. Look, it's just – you know?"

"Lauren, I'm here for you. Don't be scared. Just because Sam's in my life doesn't mean I've forgotten about you. Which reminds me," she said, and grabbed her handbag off the bench. She dug inside for a second, before pulling out a three pack of my favorite gum. "Here."

I rolled my eyes, and smiled, taking the packet. "Same here, Yoda. You can count on me too, okay? I don't always expect you to take it all in silence, repress everything. It just makes it all worse for us later on. As demonstrated tonight."

"Back on topic, you agree with me don't you? You need to practice."

"Yeah," I agreed, then grinned at her mischievously. "I guess getting slammed against a wall knocked some sense into me after all."

Sharika just smiled, and I could immediately tell that she was thinking about Sam. How did she get to him, from me flying through the air? Pfft.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I grinned at Lauren as much as I could, considering the weight of other issues bearing down heavily on my mind.

I can't believe she didn't tell me this before. I thought that she was just not practicing just because she was too lazy to do it, or that she just didn't want to bother and automatically presumed that it would eventually come to her.

But now that's all worked out my mind reverted back to Sam. What did he feel for me? Did he even love me anymore? I know I tend to exaggerate a lot when I get mad or sad or anything. But still, there was no denying it, what I did to Lauren was horrible, whether or not she provoked me into doing it. Whether or not she'd forgiven me.

"Great Sharika," Lauren said, breaking my train of thoughts. "Have you been slamming Sam into walls too?" She gave me a loaded look, grinning at me in such a way I wanted to go back to Heathlock Cliff.

"What?" I asked, honestly confused by what she was asking. I gave her an inquisitive look which was mingled with curiosity and trepidation. This was Lauren after all; she generally tends to think a particular way. A way which I have been exposed to countless times.

She sighed and tutted. "Oh you know, it's called aggressive wall sex. Slamming each other against walls, etcetera…Why else would you be thinking about him just after I made that comment?" I gave her my best 'what the' look…well the best I could muster up right now. "You were thinking about Sam, weren't you?" she asked me, giving me an interrogative look.

"Yes…" I trailed off, unsure whether to actually tell her what I was really thinking. She just told me something she's been hiding for years, I should tell her this now, or it'll just blow up in my face later on. Anyways, new leaf, new page, new era of complete honesty. "I, I don't know how he feels about me now, after witnessing _that_."

"Oh, is that all?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "He still loves you, he's just worried about you," she paused. "He wants you to be safe and," she paused again, this time the silence prolonged further then the previous one. She stared just behind my shoulder, as though she was seeing something far away. "And he's scared." He's scared? Wait, isn't he in the bedroom sleeping? "OH MY GOD!" Lauren shrieked. "I connected to Sam without falling down! And you know, being all unable to talk and sore throat and –"

"See!" I exclaimed. "I told you!"

She stopped bouncing on her chair and gave me her clueless look. "Told me what?"

I sighed. How could she forget what I had told her just five seconds ago? "Told you about you practicing your powers. You already got better and you didn't try to kill, rape or pillage."

"Oh yeah," she said slowly. She glanced at me sideways, imitating that clichéd suspicious person look. "Or have I?" She grinned her mischievous smile at me, waggled her eyebrows and resumed her bouncing.

I turned from her and ran into the bedroom, to make sure that Sam was in there.

"Hey wait, _why_ is he scared?" I heard her ask the empty room from behind me.

My eyes searched the room for a fit, tall body, or a lump in the middle of the bed. There wasn't either, the room was completely empty.

"Lauren?" I asked, my pulse started to beat faster as I felt panic steadily rise inside me. "Where is Sam?"

"Not here?" Lauren answered back in her usual tone of voice. She probably couldn't feel my dread at the possible situations that the love of my life could be in right now. "And stop being all doom and gloom – I'm sure he's fine." Okay, I guess I was wrong.

Oh god, this is my fault! He could have been looking for me, then got into a car crash, or maybe Dean's hurt or…my mind went through hundreds of scenarios, each one worse and more horrific then the last. I mean, the man stands up against ghosts and monsters on a daily basis. What could scare a guy like that?

"I'm going to call Sam, okay?" I informed Lauren, trying not to let my panic get the better of me. "You should call Dean, you know, just in case."

"What did I tell you? Doom and gloom," Lauren said, rolling her eyes. I ignored her, as I dialed Sam's number into my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her grab the motel's phone from its hook, place it to her ear and start to punch in the numbers of Dean's mobile phone. I saw her bite her lip, and knew that despite her brave façade that she was worried about them too.

The phone in my ear rang, but no one answered. After five rings it went to voicemail. I sighed in frustration as I dialed again, this time more aggressively than the last. I got the same the response again. "Damn!" I swore in anger. I tried yet again, hoping against hope that Sam would answer. It went to voicemail. I closed the phone and stuffed it precariously into my handbag.

"Hello?" Lauren asked, her voice confused and slightly shocked from the other side of the room. "Who is this?"

"Lauren, speakerphone!" I whispered harshly.

"Oh, right," she said as she pressed the button to activate the speakerphone. You know, this motel had a lot of gimmicks and crap, but such poor hygiene. Spent the all the money on the furniture or something, I guess.

"This is Edward. Who are you?" A very rough, male and obviously _not Dean_ voice sounded throughout the apartment. I stared at the phone, shocked. Why did this man have Dean's phone? What was going on? Where were they?

"Oh, um –" Lauren looked at me unsurely. I opened my mouth to tell her what to do when she just randomly said. "This is Snuggle Pie! I need to talk to – uh – Love Muffin!" Needless to say, she doesn't deal well under pressure. At all.

"State your business." he ordered curtly.

"I, um – can I talk to the owner of the phone please?" she repeated, and glanced at me. I sent her a perplexed look. This guy, although a little insolent, did not seem to be threatening. What the hell was going on?

"Ted Brown?" The voice paused. "He can't answer the phone; he's a little tied up at the moment." His voice on the other line was darkly amused, as though at some private joke.

"Oh…" Lauren said. She bit her lip again, staring at the phone as though it was a snake about to bite her.

"Ask him if we can talk to his brother," I told Lauren in soft tones. I sat down. My stomach was fluttering badly, and my worry only growing more intense than before.

"Can I speak to his brother then?" I heard Lauren ask politely, struggling against her natural inclinations to yell and rudely demand to know what was going on. Maybe they're just my instincts. I know I wouldn't be holding up as well as she was at the moment.

"He's busy too. Look, I'll save you time and energy, lady. They are both fine, and they'll be out tomorrow morning."

What?!? Out tomorrow morning?? Were they – no they couldn't – they weren't in jail, were they? I mean, it's ridiculous, why would Sam be scared of spending a night in prison? It just didn't make sense. I guess he could just be scared for me, but still…it'd come out as worrying, not as actual fear, wouldn't it? Unless Lauren was confusing the two emotions. And how would they have gotten thrown in jail anyways –

"Oh right, ahem," Lauren coughed awkwardly. "Where are they? I miss my Love Muffin!" She sent me a confused stare before she returned her gaze back onto the cheap, plastic phone. I tried hard not to giggle, although this situation wasn't funny at all – Lauren's reactions were. She really needs to learn how to deal better in scenarios such as this.

"They are safe," the deep voice answered back. "They've just been –" the phone cut off.

"WHAT?!" I screamed. _DAMN IT! _Only a few _seconds_! "LAUREN CALL BACK NOW!"

"Okay," she said, giving me an apprehensive look, and redialing.

'_This is Dean Winchester. I'm busy at the moment, leave a message and I'll get back to you.' _It instantly went to Dean's voicemail.

"The battery is dead," I said, looking glumly at the phone.

"_Nah_," Lauren said sarcastically. She glanced at the tub of ice cream we left at the counter, then back at me, an amused look in her eyes. Her mouth quirked up at one end and she said, "He said that they were safe and that they'd be back tomorrow. So, whaddaya say? Let's not let the ice cream go to waste!"


	21. It’s Just An Us Thing

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

**It's Just An Us Thing**

_It was my turn to decide  
I knew this was our time  
No one else will have me like you do  
No one else will have me, only you  
You'll sit alone forever  
If you wait for the right time  
What are you hoping for?  
I'm here I'm now I'm ready  
Holding on tight  
Don't give away the end  
The one thing that stays mine_

23 – Jimmy Eat World

_Dean_

"Let's make a pact, never to talk about this again," I said to Sam, sitting frozen in the driver seat of my car. It was the same way I'd been for the whole drive back to the motel – a kind of horrified unmoving calm, where I'd only just been able to function enough to drive and watch the road. "And to wash the seat your literally bare ass is sitting on."

Not being able to sleep the whole night, with worry for the girls, and trying to protect myself from – certain people and their – uh – certain deep rooted issues that probably started from their childhood, had created this aura, this shield that surrounded me. It was like I was in some kind of sick trance, only thinking about death, mutilated bodies caused by explosions, sodomy…

"Agreed," Sam said and nodded, his face held in the same studied calm as mine was. He hopped out and I followed soon after, shaking my head, and heading towards the room Lauren and I shared. Hopefully she was asleep in there, and I could just go to sleep on the couch for a couple of undisturbed hours.

I had to check up on her first, she'd been in a rough state when I had seen her last. The huddled shape of her on the bed, trying her best to stifle her sobs so that I wouldn't hear her. The way she'd told me to 'fuck off' and 'leave her alone'. It was so like what I do, until I'm ready with my game face on. She's so like me in some ways that it's scary sometimes.

Hopefully she's well rested now and ready to talk to Sharika. We needed them both to solve the whereabouts of Dad, and for that to happen we need for them to get along again. Although it was going to take a lot of time. Time which we didn't have. This would just add more pressure to the already tense atmosphere between them two now. This is exactly what we didn't need right now.

But the way our luck had been going, there were three options; one or both of them had run away, they'd have killed each other, or Sharika had killed Lauren when they'd continued their fight, and then Sharika would have killed herself – the last two amount to the same thing really – two dead bodies, both of people I had come to care very deeply about.

In five days.

I frowned a little, opening the door with my key. I never really thought about it – it just felt as though the four of us had been in this situation forever. Life and death scenarios bring people together in a way that nothing else can; there's been evidence enough of that in my lifetime. But it was more than that. With Sam and Sharika, sure, it was true love, all that junk. But with Lauren and I, Sharika and I, and even Lauren and Sam, it was like we shared a connection besides the immediate need to rescue Dad and their friends.

It was strange, and worrying. Normally Sammy would worry about things like that but he's been a little lax about things these days. Well not lax, but less tense and less stressed. Thank god Sharika has that effect on him. To be truthful, she sometimes has that affect on me.

Sharika felt like the sister I've never had. It's not only because she really was going to be my future sister. From the moment I met her, I knew we were just meant to be friends.

Lauren on the other hand, she was like the female counterpart of myself. She had her quips, and her sarcastic and cynical comments like I did. I could see us both screaming out heads off each other when we're ninety, in our rocking chairs, over some trivial matter.

I know that I could spend the rest of my life with these two women, both as friends of course. But what about Sam? I obviously know about his relationship with Sharika. I've _seen_ it in action. But what about Lauren and Sammy? Their relationship was probably formed on the basis of their love for Sharika. And their admiration towards me.

_Why are you thinking this?_

I don't know, I guess I'm just tired. I wouldn't be thinking this crap otherwise.

I stepped inside the motel room, and dropped my jacket and keys on the floor, shutting the door behind me. "Lauren?" I called, waiting for the familiar answer of, 'go away', 'grunt', or 'shut up Dean'. None of them came – the room was ominously silent.

My frown became more pronounced, and I headed towards the bedroom, hoping that she was just deeply asleep – or ignoring me, also an expected response. I don't know how she got so familiar to me; I think I'm getting used to her.

If that's possible. I mean, it's Lauren. I think she'll still be surprising me when I'm ninety years old, in said rocking chairs. If she lets me live that long. I can see Sam and Sharika's grandkids muttering in the background about mental institutes.

I opened the bedroom door – the bed was empty. A sinking feeling came into my stomach as my head reached one conclusion.

I rushed out of the room, searching the whole place – nowhere – she was nowhere – where was she – Sharika – had to –

I ran out of the motel room, heading towards Sam and Sharika's room. If she was hurt – I mean, if either of them were hurt – what would Sam do if Sharika was – what could I do?

I flung the door to their motel room open, seeing them both on the couch, Lauren nowhere in sight.

"Where is she?" I barked at Sharika. Sam and his 'better-half' both looked up at me with shocked, withdrawn expressions.

_No – she can't – _

∞∞

_Sam_

I walked through the door to my apartment, my mind at a blank. I never wanted to think about what happened last night, ever again.

I mean, I thought that guy who threw the pencil at me was bad enough but later on, when I didn't return his pencil and walked away to an empty corner of the cell and fell into a half-sleep. You know the ones where you're dozing but you're still conscious of what was happening around you. Well I woke up to find him towering over me, just watching me, with a sharp instrument, which was glinting in the dark room via the small stream of moonlight being allowed in through a window. Needless to say I completely freaked out. I thought that he was going to kill me. He wasn't. He had _other_ intentions in mind.

A sickening burn surged through my stomach as I recalled the specific purpose he had in mind. The only person entitled to access such a private area would be Shar.

My eyes swept across the room, searching for that familiar black hair pulled up into a high pony tail. I saw exactly who I was looking for sitting down on the couch, with a drink in hand, staring up at the ceiling. She changed clothes since last night and had taken a shower. I strode to her as fast as I could, then picked her up and gave her the hug I've been longing to since I saw her broken down expression last night. I felt her slender arms around me, hugging me back.

"Thank god," left my mouth in a quick relieved hiss.

She was safe, that's all I cared about right now. I took a moment to take a deep breath, the alluring fragrance of her hair (lychee or mango?) mingled with the oxygen I was taking in created a wave of relief to wash over me. It calmed me down.

For the first time since getting Sharika back yesterday, I was completely at peace.

Yesterday, her teleporting out was only yesterday? I didn't seem like it. It felt as if it's been years since I first met Sharika. Not just five, well now six, days, rather six years. I fell in love with her so quickly. She fell for me just as fast. She gave herself to me, to show me how much she did love me. And it's only been six days?

Was it the situation we were in? Was that what caused us to bond so quickly? I've been in other situations like this, but never have I felt about someone this quickly. It's not only that either. Dean and Sharika share some sort of connection. They seemed to be close, the way they talk about each other and everything. It seemed they created a brother sister bond already. Even with Lauren and myself, we connect, not as much as Sharika and Dean for some reason, but we still did, probably because we shared the same interest of keeping Sharika safe at heart.

I moved back a little so she could breathe.

"So you're not scared of me?" She asked me, looking at me curiously.

I shook my head. "No, never. It was an accident."

"I thought that you would've hated me, I would have if I were you," she said, looking completely serious.

"Sharika," I sighed. I let go of her, leaving my body with out her warmth and scent. I sat down on the couch and motioned for her to sit next to me. She did. "Dean and I both understand what you did. I mean, if it were me I probably would've done much worse then just throw her into a wall." That much was true. I'm glad that I didn't have her powers, or am able to use mine as well as she can use hers. "It's easy to slip up at times and you're only human. You're allowed mistakes once in awhile."

She nodded. "I guess, but, it's just that…" she sighed. "It's what I'm afraid of, I always have been. That one day I'll hurt someone I love with my powers." She looked at the floor, her mind probably thinking of hundred of scenario's which what she said could have been achieved. I'm guessing that in every single one someone died, or was living a life in which they wish they were dead.

I didn't know exactly what to say, it's not like I've had any experience in what she was going through right now. But I could relate to what she was feeling. "Sharika, you won't ever intentionally hurt anyone. It's not in your personality to do so. The person most horrified at what happened would be you."

"But," she started to argue. She looked into my eyes, searching through me. "You won't understand." She resumed to staring at the carpet.

"You're suppressing what you're feeling again, and that's what caused this whole catastrophe," I told her. I felt a little hurt that she didn't talk to me about how she really felt before. That she didn't tell me of her struggles, or what was going through her mind. My head replayed yesterday afternoon when Sharika had cried over her powers. She did try to reach out to me, in the best way she could. I doubt she's ever cried in front of anyone before. But when I asked her about it later on, she just mumbled something about her just being stupid. I guess that even she expected herself to be strong. "Sharika, I'm here for you. I want to know how you're feeling, I want to know what's bothering you; I want to know what's going through your mind. And most of all, I want to relieve you from your stresses, and make you happy!"

I really did feel that way. If she couldn't rely on her fiancé to do so, who could she rely on? I'm meant to take care of her, make sure she never feels an ounce of pain. That's my job, a job which I want to keep and uphold. A job I know many able men out there would kill for as well.

"I, it won't, I mean, it'll be hard, and, well, not easy for me to express what I feel verbally, and…" she stopped, doing exactly what she just said, not being able to express what she wanted to convey. She turned so that her whole body was facing me. "See?" she grinned. She moved closer and she hugged me. "Thank you Sam."

I wrapped my arms around her, and placed my chin on the top of her head, taking in her sweet scent. It's amazing, really, how this one woman with one simple hug could make me forget about all that has happened last night, and just stay here in this moment.

After awhile we parted. "Are you going to tell me what you're feeling?" I asked her, completely serious. Is it me or is this a sort of role reversal? That I'm the one asking for the other to be honest with their feelings.

"I'll try, but, I mean, it's all so stupid," she said. "It's just me being ridiculous and –"

"Human," I interrupted her. "Sharika, you have to tell me these things, or what happened tonight will happen again."

"I know."

"And I'll never think you're stupid, or what you're feeling is stupid. We're a couple, we need to sort through our emotions and deal with them together."

"You make it sound, oh so romantic Sam," Shar joked.

Despite myself I couldn't help but grin.

Suddenly the door flung open and Dean practically flew in with his haste. "Where is she!?!"

∞∞

_Sharika_

"Where is Lauren?!!" Dean asked again in an accusatory voice.

I refrained from cringing, I did, after all, deserve to be spoken to in a tone such as that. Sam might've understood that it was an accident, but Dean is closer to Lauren then he is to me, so he would naturally take her side. Just as Sam had instantly taken mine.

But even if he hadn't felt a natural inclination to take Lauren's side, which I doubt very much, he did have a reason to suspect me. I mean, Lauren made me extremely mad when she brought Sam unnecessarily into the argument. If she did something like that again, then there would have been no way of telling what I would have done, in what psychologists call a rage blackout.

But it still did sting a little, that he'd instantly presume that I did something to Lauren, and that's why he couldn't find her. But as I've already mentioned, he was closer to Lauren, and that he'd already witnessed my least proud moment in my entire history, this includes climbing through air vents at a shopping mall. And it is sweet that he would care about her this much. Even though he had a very solid ground to stand on with is accusation, it did still hurt.

"Dude, you don't –" Sam started, getting up from his seat, walking around the couch and standing to face Dean – all just to defend me.

I paused him by tugging on his shirt sleeve and saying "Sam, I can take care of myself, you know."

I looked at him, studying him with my eyes. Dean stood at the doorway, his posture stiff and tense. His body language was giving off signals that he was a man bracing himself for a fight. Although it did not scare me as much as it should have.

"Where is she?" he said slowly, enunciating every single word.

"Dean, I didn't mean to," I adopted a scared tone. "I warned her, that it would happen. But she didn't stop, and now…now she's –"

"What did you do to her?" Dean asked, this time sounding ten times as worried as he was before. He stalked towards me, and seemed to tower over me, his nostrils were flaring and a line appeared in between his eyes and a vein popped in his forehead.

"Sharika?" Sam called out unsurely. I ignored him for the purpose of credibility for the following 'act'.

"Well, it all started when I teleported here last night, expecting to find an empty motel room, but…but she was here, Lauren, She – she came for some ice cream, she startled me," I told them, acting a into my scared victim role. "Then we sat down, and had a talk. After we finished and sorted through our issues she – she –" I paused as I covered my mouth with my hands and shook my head slowly, willing tears to appear at the corners of my eyes. (I learnt how to fake cry in England, I've never actually used these tactics ever before, it's my pilot trial.)

"What?!" Dean's eyes widened as his horror grew.

I almost reconsidered continuing with my façade and just simply telling him that his beloved Lauren, the one who he so clearly coveted right now, was currently using this motel room's toileting facilities. But on the other hand, he needed to relax and loosen up.

"She reached out," I choked out. "And grabbed a glass, which has been sitting on the counter for god knows how long, and started to fill it with water. I cautioned her of the glass's state, but she didn't care, you know how hard headed she can be. And then the water went through her mouth, and down her esophagus and into her stomach." I paused.

Dean looked confused as to where exactly I was heading with this whereas Sam caught onto what I was doing.

"You think this is a game?!?" Dean spat out angrily.

"Let me finish or you'll never know where she is," I said sternly. He stared at me harder to intimidate me, it wasn't working. He finally gave me a curt nod so I could keep going with my story, seeing how he had no other available option. "Then her stomach digested the water and then emptied it's contents into the small intestine which in turn filtered out what the body needs from water, as it is absorbing the nutrients via the help of the liver, the pancreas and the gallbladder, the small intestine carries the remnants of the initial drink and then finally places the waste product in her bladder, which she is now excreting from her body."

There was a pause in the air. The atmosphere became a little lighter though. "So, she's on the crapper? Is that what you're saying?" Dean asked, stepping back a little.

"Yes, she is," I nodded, biting down my tongue to halt myself from saying 'Crapper, that's a nice term you got there Dean'.

His body relaxed although his jaw-line was still tense. "And you couldn't have told me from the beginning?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "It was just more fun this way."

Dean's jaw-line unclenched, as he now stood completely at ease with the world.

"Ha ha," Sam said dryly. "Very funny Shar. Dude, you should apologize to her," Sam suggested. I glanced at him through the corner of my eye. He was grinning, but at the same time he was serious.

"Yeah, uh, see –" Dean stuttered as he scratched the back of his head. He coughed as he shuffled his feet, trying to disguise his discomfort and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Shar, that, you know –"

"That you accused me of possibly hurting, if not killing my best friend?" I suggested, feeling much better then I had moments before.

"That," he said. "I should have known that you wouldn't have hurt Lauren, and if you had you would've killed yourself afterwards too."

"Well now that _that's _all solved," Sam said. He turned back to me. "Since she's here I'm guessing that you two are alright now?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we can't stay mad at each other. We usually make up in the first few hours after the fight. It's just an us thing."

Which was true. This has probably been the longest fight we've had, except for the fight that lasted a year which we had in university. But that was a complete and utter misunderstanding at first. It just grew into a bigger fight since both of us were just tired and exhausted of each other's antics.

Even after we got over the misunderstanding, and the blow out after that, we were too stubborn to be the better person. In fights we had with other people we were always the first to say sorry, even if it wasn't our fault initially. I just can't stand conflict and rather willingly put other peoples feelings ahead of my own as long as there was peace. But when we needed each other the most, we were there for each other. I helped her out with Gary, and she helped me with Professor Graham, or should I say ex-professor Graham now? Slime bag!

"Okay then," Dean said. "So…"

"Hey Sam, you want me to fix your pants, and boxers up?"

∞∞

_Lauren_

I paused in the doorway of the toilet – having just taken care of business, and having heard familiar masculine voices. Sam and Dean were back, it seems. I felt Dean's fury and worry for me as he stood in front of Sharika, as she played the part of the terrified victim.

_Who knew I meant that much to him? _a side of my brain asked in a melting voice. Immediately, my practical – if you could call it that – side reacted.

_Oh, get over yourself Lauren, its how he reacts about any person in danger. Anyone at all. Yes, even you – obviously. So stop being mush._

_But can't you just feel the – the worry, the concern? The _fear_? And how do you know? Have you been around him when he's in protective mode? _

_No. But you know it's the truth. He wouldn't care otherwise. And, stop talking to me – go back to eavesdropping!_

_Oh, right._

"…the fight. It's just an us thing."

I can't believe she just stole my phrase! I always say that, to explain things about me and Sharika. I mean, we're just, unexplainable for the most part, to most of society – I mean, even Fiona and Joyee didn't get us sometimes. So, I came up with an easy line to use – and now she just stole it!! I don't know whether to be proud and flattered or indignant.

Sam had moved back to stand near Sharika now – which meant his back was towards me. He took the same tall, strong pose as he usually did, and I would have fallen for his atmosphere of danger – if it weren't for…

_Oh my god. _I covered my mouth with my hand and struggled not to laugh.

"Okay then," Dean said. "So…"

"Hey Sam, you want me to fix your pants, and boxers up?" I asked, biting my lip and trying to look serious as I came out of the bathroom. His pants and his boxers were – well…let's just say not completely covering that cute little butt of his. There were huge slashes in the material of both his jeans and his boxers, exposing pieces of his…anatomy that usually did not come into contact with the light. "Nice aesthetics by the way. I'm enjoying the view, at least."

Sam spun around to face me, covering the seat of his pants with his hands. "No!" he replied, in answer to my question about the fixer-upper, and he strode past me into the bathroom. Its ok, he'll be groveling for me to sew his pants up later. Those are a nice pair of jeans, fitting snugly in all the right places, and they were just the right length for someone of his height. He has really long legs, and you know, getting jeans to fit right when you're tall and athletically built is not the easiest task in the world. Usually you have to get them custom made. I don't know how I'd fix them or the boxers up _properly_; the person who'd hacked at them hadn't cut along the seams in the back – which would make my job all the more difficult. I could always patch them, I guess…but that always looks so –

"Why would you have to fix his pants? What happened?" Sharika asked, looking from me to Dean, a confused look on her face.

"Yeah, Dean. What on _earth_ happened? To you and Sam? It looks like you've been attacked by an over-enthusiastic…um…lady, and I'm sure you already know about Sam's…condition." Dean's shirt was torn slightly, and rumpled all down the front as though someone had been clutching at it with desperate fists – his hair was messier than usual, and his lips were bruised slightly, with a small cut on the bottom one that was bleeding, as though he'd been kissed violently by someone. _Interesting_. Of course, he could have just got punched in the mouth, but wouldn't he be missing teeth? Or they'd be, you know, a little unstable in his maw right now. I gave Dean my most innocent look, emulating Sharika's sweetly puzzled expression, raising my eyebrows and parting my lips slightly, looking up at him as though he held all the answers. I love acting. My drama teacher had always said I was a natural… the slut. _God I hate her _– Dean's eyes widened, and he backed away slightly, and I remembered what track my mind was supposed to be on at the moment.

"Nothing happened! Nothing!" he said, and stalked out of the motel room, banging the door shut behind him. What a way to prove his point – by totally contradicting it. Sharika and I simultaneously looked at each other, shrugged and went after each of the boys – that is, I went after Dean, and she went after Sammy.

I wonder if this is going to be the way it goes every time we have to follow them…me after Dean, her after her lover-boy. That is so not fair. Why can't I go after Sam once in a while, and deal with his more cooperative nature, instead of Dean's blatant refusals to tell me anything I want to know?

"_Deannnnnn_…" I called, as I followed him back to our motel room. He glanced over his shoulder and walked faster. "Come _on_…..what happened?"

"Nothing Lauren! Let it go!"

_No way in hell_, I thought to myself, grinning. _This ought to be more fun than washing my hair with spaghetti sauce that one time as a dare. And _that_ was fun, let me tell you. Even though I kept finding sprigs of oregano in my hair afterwards… that's not the point._

I reached the motel about two seconds after him, and let myself in to see him sprint into the bathroom and close the door.

I frowned. "Killjoy!" I fumed, and stepped over his jacket on the floor, then turned around and kicked it for good measure. I breathed deeply, then went and knocked on the door. "Come on Dean, I promise I won't laugh." Much. "What happened to you two last night?"

"Go away! I'm taking a shower!"

_All the more reason for me to stick around…_, a sly voice in my mind thought, and I looked to the side, considering such a scenario – _Dean, stepping out of a billowing cloud of steam, his golden skin glistening with moisture as he_ – then stopped myself, my eyes widening. _ARGH! I CANNOT BELIEVE I JUST –_

"Why not? Is it really that embarrassing? That bad?" I asked, covering up my lapse quick-smart. Though I doubt he even noticed my peculiar silence.

"I'm not going to tell you!" Dean shouted through the door.

"Fine!" I heard the taps in the shower squeak on in their tortured fashion, and firmly kept my mind on the subject at hand. "I'll find out another way! Just you wait Winchester!" Wow, how ominous did that sound? I smiled, and shook my head as I left the motel room again to go see Sharika. She would have got it out of Sam one way or another, and even if she didn't she could look back in time, and then she could show me.

I yawned – _Hey_… _I think I'm tired…maybe staying up all night to eat ice cream with Sharika wasn't the smartest, most practical move… Since when have I ever been smart or practical?_

There's sure to be a funny story underlying their escapades last night – had they really gone to jail? I mean, where else could they have been holed up? And if so, why had Sam been scared? Why were there holes in the back of his pants? Why did Dean look as though he'd been waylaid by a nymphomaniac succubus on the roadside? And why was he so against telling me about it?

So many questions, so little time.

Well, actually, I have all the time I could possibly need. I mean, what are we even doing today? We don't have a plan, we don't have people to scope out…we have no new information, no new leads, nothing to do – except find out the answers to these mysteries.

I really need a hobby.

What do I do for fun?

Well…I…sew? Knit? Read and write. I talk to people. I surf the internet. _God._ I'm boring. Well, I cook too… I am sounding more and more like a housewife every second. Maybe I should just shut up…

I have nothing better to do though… so, I could cook something today, right?

Like…like a cake??

_OH MY GOD LAUREN, YOU MIGHT AS WELL DIE NOW – YOU ARE FALLING INTO THE MARRIED WITH TWO POINT FIVE BABIES APPLE PIE LIFE __institution!__ DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS?!?_

_Hey,_ I thought back to myself quickly. _You seem to be forgetting that I hunt demons and – and can feel other peoples emotions on a whim! And I AM NOT PREGNANT, nor am I married with two children!_

_AND YET YOU ARE PLANNING TO BAKE __**CAKE **__BECAUSE YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO?!? I AM ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY OTHER HALF!_

_Fine! I won't bake cake! I'll bake a _person_! How do you like that, huh? I've been meaning to try out the new Man recipe anyway, and Sam and Sharika will probably be spending all their time today being all 'I was so worried about you, no I was more worried, no me, I love you, I love you too' mush, and Dean will be sleeping so… There! I will bake a man so I won't be lonely! How un-apple pie life can you get?? _

…_Lauren, you're still planning on BAKING because you have nothing else to do. Now that is seriously – _

_Oh, shut up. _

I had reached Sharika and Sam's motel room by now, so I entered the room, and made my way into the bedroom.

Just inside the door I realised what a bad idea this must be and covered my eyes shouting – "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't think!"

As comfortable as I am, talking about sexual conducts and the like, I do not particularly want to see them in action. Walking in on your best friend and her fiancé, just after one of them had spent a night obsessing about if the other was alive, and the other had spent the night wondering why the other was in a state of perpetual panic, is probably not the best idea.

I started to back out, hands still over my eyes.

∞∞

_Sam_

"Sam?" I heard Shar call out as I stripped off my clothes. My shirt and singlet seemed to be fine and unharmed. But my pants, they were a completely different story. My jeans were totally ruined, that bastard didn't even cut along the seams so it'd be easy to fix. He randomly cut holes into then, leave entire patches hanging off by denim strings. I grimaced as I held my boxer shorts out in front of me, the back of it facing me. He only managed to slash them, but in such an angle that people would still be able to see parts of my ass.

I looked at the two net basket cube things Sharika had left on either side of the sink. One was colored blue, and the other was purple. I didn't know which one to toss my clothes into. Sharika had bought it to keep her, and Laurens, dirty clothes after a day long work of hunting.

I walked up to the sink, my clothes in a heaped bundle held by my hands, and viewed the contents in each cube.

_The purple one_. My head decided once I saw Sharika's pink and black lingerie, half hidden underneath a black tank top. I dropped all of my clothing in the purple net basket cube, figuring that I'd ask Lauren nicely later on if she could patch up my pants and boxers, before I turned around to adjust the shower taps.

I glanced at the locked wooden doorway, wondering whether or not I should answer. If I don't she'll unlock the door and walk in, or she'll just teleport in here, thinking that I slipped on the floor and knocked my head against the rim of the bathtub. And when she found me standing here, ignoring her, she'd get mad. And the last thing I need right now is a mad fiancé, especially after last night.

"Yes?" I answered nonchalantly, pushing aside the rest of the curtains and getting into the tub (the shower head was attached to the wall just above the end of the bathtub) once I had the water temperature fixed to my liking. After I got in I closed the curtains the rest of the way by a force of habit.

I could tell anything to Sharika, I mean, she's my future wife and I'd die for her, but there are some things I need to keep to myself. Things like trying to run backwards in the limited amount of space available in that prison cell at two am, then realizing, by the bigger grin presented in the attackers face, that it was not the wisest of choices. Or having to witness Dean getting slobbered all over on by another man. Or having a small, pudgy man with a receding hairline pointing to me, with a wicked grin which bared all his small, crooked and sharp teeth, and saying '_That one doesn't have a belt on…_'

I cringed, thinking about the perverse look on the fat, bald guy's face.

"What happened to you last night? I called you like three times and you didn't answer. And then Lauren called Dean, some weird guy picked up, and he said that the both of you were fine. I was still worried so I went to get out my, umm…homing devices –"

"You mean the crystal, the map and the vials of blood that you keep hidden at the bottom of your suitcase?" I asked, speaking over the noise the shower made.

As I cleansed myself with pure soap I checked all over my body for hints of abnormal cuts. Other then the cuts and bruises I received the day when we faced that demon in the alley, and from being flung into a dumpster thanks to Lauren. My arm was split open by a broken bottle I landed on in the giant dumpster. I hadn't even noticed until I took off my jacket, while Sharika was in the shower. I immediately disinfected it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol Shar kept in storage, and then covered it up so she couldn't see it. There wasn't any need to worry her further, and prolong the time between then and until we got _distracted_ again later on. To make sure she didn't realize that I had gotten hurt there, I turned off the lights as soon as I walked into the bedroom. I was concerned that she found out when her hands casually slid over the wound, while we were _practicing_,and I winced noticeably. But I accompanied it with a throaty moan, she seemed to buy it. Anyway, she was too preoccupied herself at that time to notice.

"I'm guessing you found them," Sharika said. "Well it works. You probably took it out of my suitcase to find me."

I looked around for a bottle of shampoo to rinse out the smell of jail from my hair. I forgot to bring over my own shampoo and soap from Dean's place, just as Lauren forgot her cube thing here.

My eyes flickered over to the mirror hanging over the sink. I think that's where Sharika would keep her shampoo. Should I? It's a shampoo tailored specifically for girls, but then again, I don't want the smell of prison gruel in my hair either, that and the saliva _he_ left in there when he tried to kiss me. (He tried to force his lips onto mine but I moved away in time just as he started tonguing my hair.)

There are only two choices – keep smelling like something a squirrel would regurgitate, or smell like Sharika. There was one obvious answer, Sharika.

She wouldn't mind would she? It was partially her fault that I ended up in jail in the first place. She wouldn't notice anyway, and if she did she probably had another set in her suitcase somewhere.

I stepped out of the shower, opened the mirror door, and grabbed two green bottles, one shampoo and the other conditioner. _Garneir Fructis, Sleek and Shine_, I read off the label. This is the shampoo that Trisha, my high school girlfriend used. The only reason I remember is because she was my first love, and also the first person who I slept with. Since her parents weren't home for that weekend and I got muddy from the final soccer game (we won), she took me back to her place and allowed me to shower there. Since I didn't feel like going back to that crappy motel room my dad was renting – he'd just snap at me for playing soccer instead of helping him out, like perfect Dean was – I asked her if I could stay the night, she agreed, and one thing led to another, and lets just say, I used her shower again the next morning.

"Yeah, since you told me about how Charmed worked, I figured that you had a set in your suitcase, and I was right. Where'd you get my blood?" I asked her, as I pushed the sides of the green bottle so the shampoo would fall into my hand. When a substantial amount was squeezed out, I placed the shampoo on the rack stuck to the wall, rubbed my hands together and began to lather it on my hair. The smell radiating from the shampoo reminded me of the nights, when Shar and I just finished making love, and she had already fallen asleep in my arms, where I just nuzzled up to her, and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

"After the demon in the alley thing, when we were…and my hand brushed against your arm, you winced, and then I felt wetness between my …–"

I grinned, normally I don't get sexual innuendo but this one was so blatant. I refrained from saying '_I sure did_' or anything crude like that. That was more Dean's style. I simply waited until she understood what she just had implicated. My mind reverted back to that night, now that she mentioned it, she did pause for a bit, but it was so momentary that I hadn't noticed. I just went on. I didn't even comprehend that the wound would've reopened. But I didn't feel pain afterwards, or even now.

I rotated my head to look at the wound once more. There was a line, barely pencil thin, of blood clots. _That healed fast. _

I stood under the showerhead, letting it wash away the shampoo. When it was all out, I repeated my previous actions, just as the bottle suggested.

"_Shut up!_," she said in a high pitch voice. I smiled as I imagined her face, which was probably now in an embarrassed scowl. "I felt wetness BETWEEN MY FINGERS! BETWEEN MY FINGERS! My FINGERS got WET, that's what I meant. Well, anyways, I put two and two together, and realized that I must have reopened a wound or something."

I capped the shampoo bottle and reached for the conditioner. I smeared liberal amounts onto my hair, knowing that it'd need to smell as different from the stench of prison as possible.

"Why didn't you say anything then?" I knew the answer already. I was purposely teasing her, trying to make her uncomfortable. She was probably too embarrassed now to see my ploy. After she paused, she took a shaky breath and arched her back, pressing her chest into mine, emitting a soft but very revealing. '_Oh_'.

"I was being selfish, okay!?! And I was like a second away from…what Lauren said in the car. Well when you fell asleep I bottled your blood. Then I teleported to Dean and Lauren's place, grabbed Deans jacket and got the blood off there. It wasn't easy. Anyways, remember that _drink_ I gave you yesterday morning?"

I rinsed away the remaining conditioner in my hair as I thought back to yesterday morning.

_I woke up and felt a presence missing in between my arms, so I then looked over, expecting to see Sharika's sleeping form curled up underneath the blankets, but she wasn't there. The bed was empty. Then I heard the door open softly so I glanced up in time to see Sharika poke her head through the door. She smiled at me and walked in with what looked like tea. She told me to drink up, only saying that it'll help me feel better, which I obliged. _

"What was that?" I wanted to know. I didn't want to drink it. I preferred coffee to tea any day. I was mildly surprised by the syrupy sweet flavor when I first drank it. And then there was a bland after taste, which I definitely didn't enjoy.

I picked up the soap again and started to lather my skin with it, rubbing it against every crook and cranny in my body.

"It was a simple healing potion, think of it as a magical band-aid. It took me about an hour to brew it, I took the liberty to make more then just one, there's a whole bottle filled with it in the fridge. And don't think I tricked you into drinking it, I never told you what it was, you never asked."

"That's because I thought it was herbal tea. Why didn't you just tell me that then?" I wondered out loud. If she had told me I would've drunk it. At least if she coerced me into drinking it with the several tactics she could have used.

"Because I didn't want to bruise your male ego," she told me. "And don't say 'what male ego?', cause the moan you made after wincing speaks for itself. By the way," she added almost as if it were an afterthought, I knew it wasn't. It was the whole purpose of this conversation. "Where were you last night? I was worried, and I couldn't even do anything about it because Lauren stopped me."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said stubbornly.

I continued to wash away the germs of prison from my body.

_Stop thinking about what happened last night!! _My mind ordered me when I drifted off to think about the tongue thing _he_ did. _Think about her, in that school girl outfit._ My head was instantly filled with the most tantalizing, and alluring images of Shar. This I definitely preferred over anything else right now. The same scenario I envisioned when I first saw her outfit sprang into mind.

"Come on Sam," she pleaded. "I told you about England and stuff; it's only fair that you tell me what happened to you guys."

I hesitated to answer. She had a point there, half the stuff she did in England was worse then what I went through, her humiliations were mostly public, mine was between me, Dean, the midget, the fat guy, the guy with the beard, and the rats in the corner. How were the guards oblivious to all this?

"Okay, fine, once I get out of the shower." I answered, giving into her. It seems as if I were right the evening I first met her, her logic would coerce me into doing anything she wanted.

Now, where was I?

I began to rub away all the soap bubbles from myself, as I stood underneath the shower.

_The playful, but at the same time, serious grin, the way her finger curled as she beckoned me seductively... _

I noticed that I was getting harder as the arousing thoughts consumed my mind further and further. It aroused me further more that I knew the sensations me brain was thinking of, I've lived through.

_The fervent look, the hungry way she stared at me, the rhythmic pattern her chest heaved up and down…_

Another thought fought its way into my brain. We never got to finish what we started at Dean's place yesterday, did we?

∞∞

_Sharika_

I sat in the middle of the bed, my legs spread out in front of me, and Sam's dad's journal laid down on my lap opened to a page about Barbas, the demon of Fear, a demon who've I've become quite acquainted with over the course of my powers. I was reviewing it again for the third time in the past few days. I didn't know how to make headway with the information presented in this book. When I first was reading it, I was hoping that it'd give me the tiniest hint as in where to look, what to do. There was information here about practically every single demon out there, except for the one we were looking for, the only one we needed so we could get back the owner of the journal, ironic isn't it?

So, instead, I got a pen and jotted down what I knew about Barbas, his powers, and the fact that no one seems to be able to vanquish him. I also wrote down a bit about my unpleasant encounters with him, and how I had to fight with him. I've only sent him back to limbo. There's just no killing him.

But the strange thing is, he's never used any of my real fears on me, which would have definitely killed me. He only played with my trivial fears, like insects, and dogs with rabies, drowning and small stuff like that. Was he planning on attacking when I'd be at my weakest? The optimum time to collect my powers and use them for himself so he could rule as superior to any other demon before him. I wouldn't put it past him, he has many contacts who he retrieves the help of to continually reappear in the real world.

I've been facing demons and such, usually low level ones but demons non-the-less, ever since I got my powers. They've been trying to extract my magic and implant it in themselves so they could rule as King in their demon world. I, myself, am famous in that world. Demons everywhere knew of my powers, and the fact that no demon has ever been able to defeat me. And if one so happens to, it'll be a landmark event, completely unprecedented. That demon would command the respect and admiration of demon kind everywhere.

That's what this Demon was trying to achieve, the one who kidnapped my friends. Not only mine, but Sam's abilities (not as well known as mine) were powerful. This Demon better reform, 'cause he is biting of way more then he can chew.

Yet another pang hit my stomach.

My stomach was fluttering wildly today. I had no idea as to why. I was fine when it was just Lauren and myself here, but when Sam came back, and I was talking to him through that door…I haven't felt that way since I first met him. What's changed since then? I've been alone with Sam many times over the past few days. I was practically alone with him before we were interrupted by Dean. But in the back of my mind I knew Lauren was there, so I wasn't technically alone with him.

But as soon as Lauren walked out the door and shut it, they began. They started off as small tingles, and now have grown into, well, this. I was hesitant to talk to him, my own fiancé, how? And most importantly why? Maybe I'm just making a big deal out of nothing, I sometimes randomly get stomach flutterings, it's not like it hasn't happened before. I could just be having a side affect of not sleeping well the past few days.

The door opened and Sam walked in, with only a towel tied around his waist. His hair came down in wet clumps, and beads of waster were running down his broad, and perfectly muscled, sculpted chest.

_Towels are evil!_ Lauren's voice said grumpily in my head.

I ignored the raise of twinges and asked him again, "So what did happen last night?"

Suddenly the door flew open to reveal Lauren covering her eyes and yelling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't think!"

She stopped as she peered through the spaces between her fingers. Sam and I just stared at her in mild surprise.

"Oh, never mind then, so did yeti boy tell you what happened last night?" she asked. She almost bounced her way into the bedroom, coming to sit beside me.

"He was about to when you barged in," I told her. I turned to Sam. "Will you still tell me?"

Sam observed Lauren cautiously, as she looked up at him and smiled innocently.

"Sam, when you tell her, she'll eventually break and tell me, so just cut out the middle part with all the taunts I throw her way and tell us both now," Lauren said.

"Fine," Sam grumbled, he didn't look too pleased about it. He stretched out his arm and held it in front of me, waiting for me to take it. I placed his hand in between my hands and focused on last night.

Images of Sam getting pulled over by a cop came to mind, as the night fast forwarded with bits and pieces of random dialogue thrown in. Dean trying to flirt with him, the cop looking unimpressed, then Dean scowling at the officer and saying, '_So officer, we have important issues to deal with right now, something your tiny brain can not comprehend. So why don't you hop back onto your motorcycle there tubby, and as a tip, lay off the fatty foods. You really could do without._' Then the next image was of them locked in a prison cell, a man trying to kiss Dean, the pencil thrown at Sam. '_Now bend over and pick it up._' A number of other unfortunate occurrences entered my head, as I bit the inside of my mouth, trying hard not to laugh. '_Now, either take your pants off now so I can see that sweet, hot ass or I'll just have to do it by force_'. The events that followed replayed in my head, I couldn't hold it in any longer, as soon as the vision went to the part where they were freed I let go of his hand and laughed loudly.

"OH MY GOD!" I managed to yell in between my laughter. I motioned for Lauren to hold my hand, then I repeated what I saw into Lauren. Moments later she burst out into laughter too.

I joined in, and for several minutes we were laughing raucously on the bed, holding onto our stomachs and wiping tears from our eyes.

"Oh dear, I'm going to go see Dean now," Lauren said, after she calmed herself. She looked up to grin at Sam, and then took notice that he was in nothing but a towel. Her eyes skimmed over his profile. "Nice Sam. Got to go now." With that she turned away and flounced out the door, sealing the entrance behind her.

"So, you've had an interesting night," I said. The flutterings returned once more.

"I wouldn't call it that," Sam said, grimacing.

I got up and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder. I felt his arms around me, one hand in my hair and the other on my back. "It was really sweet of you to come look for me," I told him.

He kissed my neck, as his hand slid lower down my back. It was just above my jeans when my eyes jerked open and my hands automatically pushed him away, causing his hands to break physical contact.

What the…why'd I just panic and push him away? I like it when he touches me, why was I just so self-conscious there? Those and a hundred other similar questions ran through my mind. None of them with an answer.

"So, aren't you getting dressed?" I asked him nervously, to cover for my momentary lapse of…something.

He grinned. "No," he replied before pulling me towards him and pressing his lips against mine.

My legs instinctively went around his waist, one hand on his back and the other desperately untying the knot that held his towel to his waist.

_Finally,_ I thought as the knot became loose and the towel hit the floor.

Sam pushed forward until I was lying on my back, with him on top of me.

His hands moved up my sides, pulling my shirt up with them. I unbuttoned my jeans and ran my hands over his chest and abdomen, taking in every detail.

A feverish desire took over my body. A yearning rocked though me, a yearning for Sam. I've been waiting for this since I teleported back here yesterday.

_Wow, that was only yesterday…OH!_

Sam kissed my neck, just under the left ear. He started to pull down my jeans.

My head flashed back to last night. _Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_ All the desire I previously felt seeped away, in that one moment.

As soon as she uttered that, it stung, it hurt me more then anything else ever has. Nothing could have hurt as much as that, if she called me any names, recalled any of my prior mistakes, anything. That hurt me the most because of one simple fact. It was true.

The cold, hard brunt of the truth hit me, as I lay there, shocked.

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago? _

What am I doing!?! I did meet Sam five days ago, and now I'm _sleeping_ with him! I know I love him and all but come on. _FIVE DAYS!_ That's all, well actually six days now. That doesn't matter, this is stupid. You have only known him six days, SIX DAYS!

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_

No one would believe what I'm doing, what I already did. They'd hold onto their false conceptions of me, blindly believing that I would forever remain the innocent little virgin till the day I got married. For gods sake, even I held that thought to myself. I encouraged it, believing it to be forever true. How wrong I was.

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_

I remember when I was little. I vowed to myself to lose my virginity on my wedding day, I was so proud of myself. It's a cultural tradition of mine, one that's been respected an upheld since, only god knows how many generations back. And now look at me, sleeping with a guy I've known SIX DAYS!!

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_

This is not good. I've disrespected my family, dishonored our beliefs and turned against something I've believed in since I first found out about sex!

_You're a slut, _my mind berated me. _How could you ever be proud of yourself?_

Flashes of my parents, of what they would think of me now, of what I was doing, the anger, the sadness in their eyes, the disappointment, in the daughter they've doted on since birth.

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_

But I want to, sooooooooo much! I argued back. So much that it hurts!

_Does it matter? Hitler wanted to diminish all minorities, does it mean that he had the right to?_

Hitler hurt people, I'm not hurting anyone!

_Fucking Sam. A guy you met, what? Five days ago?_

_Only yourself…_the voice in my head trailed off. My already toiled mind grew sadder. It was right, Lauren was right.

I can't do this…

Sam began to pull down on my underwear, as he kissed down my chest.

"STOP!" I cried out, panting hard.

Sam looked up at me with a confused face. "What's wrong?"

"I have to call David," my mind supplied me with. I teleported out from under him and put on my jeans and my shirt. "I told him I would before."

With that lame excuse I ran out of the room and into the kitchen, now intent on actually calling David. I didn't lie to Sam though, I did promise to call David, but David might be surprised as how early this call would be, by five hours or so.

∞∞

_Dean_

I came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my wet hair, and plopped down on the couch in the living room. Finally, I had a few minutes to myself without Sam, or prison guys, or Laure-

"Oh, _Dean_…" Lauren caroled bounding in through the front door, a huge grin on her face that immediately told me that she'd found out what happened last night.

I ignored her, drying my hair roughly with the towel, then tossing it onto the seat next to me. My shirt was clinging to my skin down the front and back, because I hadn't dried myself properly – having looked forwards to spending time on my own, and being able to sleep without having to worry about being attacked by desperate – of course, Lauren had to wreck that for me too.

She was standing in front of me now, wearing her sweet innocent smile. Suddenly it dropped and she said – "Dean…you've turned off girls?" She cocked her head to the side, and affected a thoughtful expression. "Meh, I don't really care – it doesn't effect _me_…I just get to tease you." She laughed. "Guys are finding you more and more attractive Dean – I mean, first our informant, and now this? How long will it take for you to succumb?"

I don't really have an excuse for what I did next. I mean, I was tired, cranky, and fed up. I didn't appreciate getting paid out about something I hadn't had a choice in, and that had really – just – well, I didn't enjoy it. In fact, it could have led to rape. And then she was –

Okay, enough is enough. I will reaffirm my sexuality, both to her and myself, right here, right now.

I grabbed her arm, and pulled. She gasped and fell onto my lap, grabbing the front of my shirt to balance herself, which forced my face to jerk towards hers. I didn't stop – I moved forwards, fully intending to kiss all our doubts away in one, big, sweaty session – but as soon as our lips touched, all thoughts left my head except one.

_She deserved better than this. _

My lips brushed hers, and I kissed her tenderly, my eyes closing. My hands came up to her cheeks and I ran my thumbs under her eyelids, fervently hoping that she wouldn't slap me for taking advantage of her like this. And then I stopped thinking at all, really – her hands slid up over my shoulders, and clasped around my neck, playing with the hair at my nape.

Suddenly the kiss changed and just as in our last kiss (well, the one where she was fully conscious), we were attacking each other – her hands gripping my hair, mine on her waist, moving up, moving and –

"Lauren, I need to speak to y–" Sam's voice abruptly came into hearing – and I jerked my head upwards away from Lauren. I glanced up at Sam's startled expression, and then back down at Lauren, who's cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, eyes were unfocused, and breathing rapid. She blinked up at me, her lightly bruised lips parted and –

_Fuck Sam,_ I thought, swooping down to –

"I'll, uh, come back later," Sam interrupted again, as he turned around, practically ran out of the room.

_Now to – _

"Yeah – uh – I'm just going to – the – this – um – bye!" Lauren stuttered, and jumped out of my arms. She looked down at me for a second, her eyes almost golden with heat. "I'm going to – _SAM, WAIT UP!!!"_

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_Sorry the production of this story is slowing down; we have about five chapters left that are pre-written, but don't know where we're going with this story anymore. Hopefully we will be struck by the muses – and school doesn't take up too much of our time. Thanks as ever for the continued support – FP and P7. _


	22. Perfect Mate

**This early update is just for CountessSia who is in desperate need of comfort!fic because of horrible circumstances that demand all the love she wants from friends – like me! Happy to oblige; hope you enjoy the chapter hon. **

**PS: We don't own Charmed. Otherwise I'd be doing Drew Fuller right about now. Guh.**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

**Perfect Mate**

_We're like night and day - White and black  
But what we have is a perfect match  
When I say this - You say that  
But love comes easy 'cause opposites attract_

A Perfect Match – A-Teens

_Sam_

I lay in bed, confused as to exactly what had happened. One moment we were all over each other, and then Sharika runs out, claiming that she needed to call David.

I shrugged it off. She must just feel obliged to call her friend, nothing really different of her. Oh well, it's nothing I can't persuade her out of.

I got out of bed and pulled on my boxers, and then walked out of the bedroom. I saw Shar hunched over the telephone, dialing a number. I slowly walked up behind her and stroked her neck on one side while kissing the other. "Can't your call wait?" I asked her in a whisper. I continued kissing her, moving around her neck and shoulder.

"No Sam," she said in a squeaky voice. I guessed that my method was starting to work.

"Come on," I said as my hand brushed down her stomach.

She shivered at my touch. Then she just seemed to stop and adjust herself. "Not now Sam!" With surprising strength in one hand she pushed me away. "I'm – what I mean to say is that – well Lauren and – Hi David! It's about time you answered."

Oh, Lauren.

Right, well now I knew exactly what was going on. She must have freaked out Sharika when she said "_Fucking Sam, someone you met five days ago_" or something. And I also knew what I had to do.

I went back into the bedroom, and pulled on my clean clothes. I walked out, glancing at Sharika who was talking animatedly to her long lost friend, then slammed the door shut behind me.

_Lauren started this mess, she's going to end it…_

I opened the door to my brother's motel room without knocking and barged in. "Lauren, I need to speak to y–" And there they were, Lauren sitting on my brother's lap, him with his hands all over her. It was almost a repeat of what we, Sharika and I, saw the first night we met. Except this was much tamer, not by much, and they were on a lounge and not pressed up against the wall. "I'll, uh, come back later."

I turned away from the scene, not the least bit embarrassed by what I saw. I've walked in on my brother many times over the years. In fact, when I was thirteen I walked in on my brother receiving a blow job in the Impala by the girl who cleaned the pool at the motel we were staying at. Not a pleasant sight to me, but it had helped me build up a strong immunity to walking in, and one time even ice skating in, on my brother and his many partners.

"_SAM, WAIT UP!_"

∞∞

_Lauren_

_Oh, God. Oh God. That did _not _just happen. No, no WAY. _

_THE SECOND TIME?!? THE SECOND TIME I'D KISSED DEAN – well, okay, third if you count that dream I had where he kissed me – I don't because it was JUST A DREAM – it wasn't like it was – I was just – helping him – the – there was – ARGH!_

I have to convince Sam that it wasn't the way it looked. Dean and I – there was, the –

I sprinted after Sam and let myself into the motel room, only to see him heading into the bedroom, and Sharika standing in the kitchen talking all chirpily into the phone. It wouldn't be her Dad then – Sharika doesn't do chirpy with her Dad, she's more inclined to be serious and almost frustrated. I wonder who –_ no time, no _time_, I need to – Sam – Dean – _

I followed Sam into the bedroom, sending an over-wide grin at Sharika on my way past, like I was saying '_nothing up with me, nothing at all, nada_' – and not convincingly. If triple negatives are ever. It's one way to tell if a person is lying, if they use a triple negative. Of course, if they were a good liar you'd never catch them making that mistake.

"Sam!" I said, affecting a bubbly carefree atmosphere. "You needed to see me?" Maybe if I just pretend it didn't happen, that nothing is different, then he won't bring it up.

_Yeah…that's likely to happen. Really, really likely Lauren. Really. Besides – nothing IS different. Nothing at all. _

Sam frowned, and motioned to me to close the door, which I did.

_What's up his ass?_

"So, what's up your ass?" I asked him, feeling annoyed vibes flow my way. They were definitely aimed at me. _Oh God – was it because of the – the NOT Dean and me kiss? But why would he be –_

"Remember what you said to Shar yesterday? While you two were fighting?"

I nodded. "Sure! Well, okay, not really. Which bit? There were a lot of bits. I mean, it could be the bit about the bit about the bit where I was like, nuhhr Miss Perfect, and blah, blah, stuff and things. Which bit? There were a lot of bits!" I kept repeating myself, as I always did when trying to cover up the fact that I am nervous, or awkward. Not that I was – I mean, what did I have to be nervous about? I mean, not that I _was_ nervous or awkward. I don't have anything to be –

"The bit about me."

"OHhhh…right. Yeah, about that – I didn't mean it! I mean, you know, I was just, you know, and there was – I didn't _mean_ it." And I didn't. It was just a whole load of frustration, and a bit of jealousy, plus you know, the blinding rage taking over me at the time. I couldn't give a fuck if Sharika and Sam were fucking. Well, okay, I did in the way that it affected Shar, but otherwise I didn't like to stick my nose into places where it is definitely unneeded and unwanted. That area certainly qualifies as a 'keep your nose out of it' area. By far.

"Yeah," Sam said, waving away my garbled apology type thing. "She took it to heart."

"I noticed, I mean, I did get slammed against a wall." I rolled my eyes, and felt the twinge in my back again. I wonder if I have many bruises. The way it feels all stiff and nuhhr, I don't doubt it. I could get Shar to look for me – but then she'd feel all guilty and try to force her icky healing potion on me. And I don't need to be fussed over. I'll check it out later, like in a mirror or something, by myself. You know…when Dean was holding my side, it didn't – _NOT GOING THERE!_

"No, _today_. Today she blew me off, when I was –"

"Sammy, I do not want to hear about your sex-capades! Okay? Dude, total over-share."

Sam just looked at me strangely, and shook his head a little, like he was saying '_what'_? Don't give me that Sam, I can feel the frustration, confusion and unresolved sexual stress in you. So don't try and give me that look, 'cause I am not falling for it. "No, when I –" he paused, and flushed a little. "Look, she just sort of ran away from me."

"Maybe you have bad B.O." I raised my eyebrows at him. No, it's not that. He actually smells kind of nice. Kind of like Sharika. Like…fruit? How…strange.

He ignored me, continuing, "And I know it's about you – because she told me so."

I glared at him, shocked and a little irritable. "Sharika's been bitching about me?" I asked, horrified. Well, she does have good reason…though I didn't bitch about _her_…then again, who can I bitch about her to? _No one._

"No, she didn't say it specifically; it was kind of a slip up. So will you just talk to her? Because she won't listen to me about this."

"You want me…to talk Sharika…into having sex with you?"

"I know she wants to, it's just that thought getting in the way." Sam himself was a little confused about what he wanted here. Sure, he wanted to get laid by the chick he loves, but he was also worried about her etcetera, etcetera. Worried about what she's feeling. You know, the usual crap those two go through. Is this what practicing my empath skills are going to entail? Trying to figure out everyone else's tangled and twisted emotional paths?

_Hmm… I think I can live with it. If you put it more in the perspective of a puzzle to be solved, at my leisure, then I can't really get annoyed at it – see it as an inconvenience. A nuisance. If I think of it more as a fun activity that will also help me evolve as an empath, I can handle this everyday stuff. I might need a little help with the…you know…evil, and perversion and stuff. But otherwise… _

"Says who?" I asked grumpily, and like a wake up call from a higher being that likes to meddle in these kinds of things, my empath abilities kicked on and I got all the squigglies Sharika was feeling. I guess I should be trying to initiate it myself, but at the moment it's got a life of its own. And if it answers my questions without all that inarticulate babble, that doesn't really explain how a person is really feeling, I think I can deal. In fact, I might prefer it. She was all nervous, and she _wanted_ Sam, but on the other hand, there was this kind of barricade that stopped her from doing it. It seemed like she was confused – well not really confused, just held back by…her parents? What the hell? I guess it's her cultural beliefs and stuff, just like I'm supposed to be all Catholic and holier-than-thou and not even think impure thoughts. She feels that…her parents would be disappointed in her because of Sam? And what they've been doing? Sharika doesn't want to disappoint her parents – I get that. But, wouldn't they just want her to be happy? And I mean, it's not like she's 'living in sin' or anything. They are _engaged_. Yeah…it was confusing me too. However, I still got the sudden urge to jump Sam's bones. Not fun, considering what I'd just – what he's just _seen_ – "Oookay… never mind that. Just go talk to her yourself. I mean, you're her fiancé, you guys can talk about anything, right?" I grinned at him confidently, simply trying to get out of the task he had set me.

"Look, you started it." No go, obviously. Stupid, not able to be manipulated Sam… "The only other person who knows about me and Sharika is Dean; I doubt she'd appreciate me telling him." _Oh, yeah, but she'd appreciate you telling me dumbwad. Pfft._ Sam smiled. "Besides, it seemed as though he had his hands full."

My eyes widened. "But – the – you – FINE!" Why am I so easy to manipulate? People can just jerk me which ever way they want me, within days of knowing me. Exhibit A, Sam, and his using me to pimp Sharika out. Exhibit B, Dean, make me nervous or angry, and I'll fall into whatever he wishes.

I stormed out of the room, heading straight for where Sharika was still talking on the phone to whomever she was talking to on the phone with the phone to her ear and the talking and the listening – _WHY AM I STILL BABBLING AND REPEATING MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC?!_

I heard the door to the motel room open, and caught a glimpse of Sam as he left me to sort out his 'problem'. Asshole.

"Sharika, why aren't you fucking Sam?" I asked crankily, standing in front of her, my hands on my hips. I tapped my foot on the tiles, as she looked up at me, a horrified expression on her face.

I heard the guy she was talking to even through the phone lines, and considering how far away I was. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?"

Sharika's eyes widened. "David –" she started, before I grabbed the phone and said into it –

"Yes, David, you did. I am in a mucking, and I need Sharika to help me." I held the phone away from Sharika, holding her back with one arm as she struggled against me to grab for it.

"A mucking?" David asked, his English accent (reminder: when not pimping out Shar, melt about David's sexy accent) making his confusion even more evident. I don't blame him really; I don't even know what I'm saying.

"A mucking, what the hell?" Sharika whispered, and made a grab for the phone.

"Yes, a mucking. Haven't you ever heard of that Aussie expression?" Ha…if I said this to another Australian, they'd probably give me the same confused and strange look Sharika was giving me now. "In other words, I am in a mess, or I have a problem. So, Sharika will talk to you later. Buh-bye now."

I hung up the phone before she could reply.

"Lauren!" Sharika growled, and glared at me. "How could you just –"

"Sharika, why aren't you fucking Sam?" I interjected, and raised my eyebrows at her.

"Is _that_ what you two were talking about in there?" Sharika asked, staring at me incredulously. _Stupid empathy – no, don't think about it like that. Take this opportunity to practice. Okay, breathe in, breathe out…_

Sharika is feeling…angry – well only slightly, so let's pass it off as annoyed. That Sam and I were talking about that. She is feeling…ashamed of herself. Because…as I said, well, she screwed a guy that she'd known – what? Six days now? And she was feeling guilty because of the way she'd reacted with Sam.

And, yet again she was feeling the whole, 'Sam deserves someone better than me, who has less issues and nuhhr'… crap like that.

"Um, yes," I said simply. She looked at me, nodding her head slightly and indicating with her hands that she was waiting for me to expand. I just waited, looking back at her. When I finally cracked I said – "Well, why aren't you? Not that I don't already know, because yeah, but still, you should say it so then you can get all your feelings out, and I can play the whole comforting, supportive friend role – you know how much I love to do that."

Sharika sighed. "Because you're right Lauren. I met him five days ago –"

"Six now," I interrupted cheerily.

"Technically we met them at night, so it won't exactly be six days until tonight, so it's still five days. Anyways – this is just moving way too fast. I mean, it's –" Sharika stammered, and then trailed off. She fidgeted with the telephone cord, which I'd placed back on its hook. "I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation with you."

"Look," I said, feeling ashamed of myself too, and not just through her. I mean, Sam was right. I had set Sharika down this thought path and made her all non-believer-y in the whole Sam, love issue. Well, not an unbeliever, just kind of… Weird about it. Hence the new no sex policy and the nervousness and – I'm just repeating myself _again_. I can not still be all hyper about the – Dean – me – thing. The thing. Okay, I still am. "It's not true. What I said before. You and Sam, you're like, one of those perfect couples, that everything falls into place for. I mean, it feels like you've known him for years, right? And you do _know _him. Don't disregard your own feelings because of something stupid I said in anger. It's ridiculous."

"But it's true."

"That you met him five days ago? So what? Some people meet and one day later they elope together. They have an instant bond. So do you and Sam. Time is irrelevant in love. And anyway, you know you're going to end up with him, so why wait, when you have already indulged? And you _technically _won't be violating your cultural beliefs, because you're only going to be with one man your whole life. Sam." I believed in what I was saying completely. I didn't need to see the visions – I could feel their love, all the time. I guess that's one bad thing about this empathy – knowing how everyone feels before they do, but knowing that they need to figure it out for themselves, and that no matter what you say they're just going to go their own way and make their own mistakes and choices. And you just have to stand there and watch, even though you know what the best course of action is.

Well that, and the fact that my own emotions were still just as jumbled as ever. Even as an empath I couldn't untangle my own feelings.

"Yeah, but that's supposed to happen after I'm married, not before. I didn't even know him twenty four hours before I – and we weren't even engaged."

"You think you're a slut, don't you?" I asked bluntly. _God_. This is all we needed. The virginal, all innocent, sweet Sharika thinking she's a hardcore skank. It's almost laughable.

She looked away from me, staring at the wall. Ugh.

"You _aren't_. Look, this is just going around in circles. I can't really say anything that will magically put everything to rights. Just think – you never thought there was anything wrong with it – because there isn't – until I said that. And I renounce it, it was true, but I didn't mean it the way it came out, because it doesn't apply to you and Sam. I only said it because I was pissed. So, I'm going to go, let you seep in your own angst-y juices for a while, then send Sammy over. Talk to him about it."

I stood up and left the room. Opening the door to outside, I saw Sam jerking away from the door and trying to look inconspicuous. So much for the stewing. I shook my head and patted him on the chest, passing him as I did so. "It's your turn Romeo," I said, and left them to it.

∞∞

_Sharika_

"You know, for someone who is as experienced in hunting as yourself, you really suck at hiding," I told Sam when he walked into the motel casually three minutes after Lauren left. "I saw the top of your head through the window while you were waiting to make your entrance."

"Oh," was all he said. He glanced out the window, almost as if to make sure that no one else was standing there, then he strode to the couch and sat down, a serious expression playing on his face.

"You asked Lauren for help?" I asked Sam, feeling greatly amused that my fiancé asked my best friend to help him to get me to sleep with him. I mean, how ridiculous was it?!? Something one might witness in The O.C. but not something that would be done in real life, or so I thought. One day, when this entire Demon thing is over, I will tease him about it so much.

"The only other person I could talk to would be Dean, and he was busy the last time I saw him." He replied, his eyebrows raised and his mouth in a half smile. "And you'll never guess what with."

"What's that look for?" I wanted to know. "What was he doing?"

"He was kissing Lauren."

"OH! No wonder she was acting so weirdly before…I knew they liked each other, I wish they'd just get together already," I blabbered over the topic we've already discussed many times, trying my best to avoid the uncomfortable topic. An awkward pause settled over us. "So, what exactly did you tell Lauren?" I bit my inner cheek to stop myself from laughing. I just can't believe Sam went to Lauren, _Lauren_! But then again, she would be the one person I'd listen to. And I doubt that Dean would have any good advice to offer Sam in this situation since he has been in less serious relationships then Sam has.

"I just said that what she told you, in spite, got to you, and that you blew me off today." He replied, he moved up his seat, leaning forwards and placed his hands in between his legs, now intent on going through this conversation. "Why did you?"

Damn, I was hoping that he wouldn't ask this question. Although it would be the only one on his mind, I didn't blame him though. I was hot one moment and then totally cold the next, it'd confuse anyone. It'd even had confused me, when I pushed him away from the hug.

I guess I was just reacting badly to the situation. I'm not used to communicating my issues, rather, just store it up and let it go in small amounts. I have to learn how to express myself, and I'm lucky that I have Sam to help me through it. He knows how I'm feeling, sometimes even before I do, and he will call me on it. He'd try to get me to release my feelings, and not in a forcible or patronizing or condescending way. He was patient, and to the point. Which is exactly what I needed.

"It didn't matter to you much when we first started our relationship," he added. I was a bit surprised, I expected for him to be angry, I would be…well not angry just annoyed. He had a right to be. He wasn't. Not a bit. I don't know why I was surprised though. I did almost back out when we were first physically expressing our love, he didn't try to coerce me back into doing it. He was patient and sensitive to my feelings, over his own.

"Well, this is going to sound so stupid, but, when we started, it was all fine and dandy, then my mind just sort of threw a big red stop sign, I kept thinking about what Lauren said, and how true it was. We did just meet a few days ago. And then my mind replayed the part about me not following family beliefs, and how everyone would be disappointed in me and, well you get where I'm going with this." I looked at the floor, trying my best to steer clear of his facial expression. I just couldn't take his eyes penetrating my head, seeing my thoughts, now.

"Stop thinking about everyone else and think about yourself, Sharika, I love you and if you feel that you're really not ready to have sex anymore then I won't force you into it. Don't think that the only thing I want from you is sex. The only thing I want is you, just as you are. But just tell me, how do you feel? Forget about your parents, and the expectations people have of you, forget about everyone, even me, and think about what _you _want," Sam's voice suggested, he was getting passionate about this. It only showed how much he cared about me.

What did I feel?

I didn't want to stop showing him that I loved him. I wanted to partake in those aspects of the relationship just as much as he did. But at the same time I didn't want to move so rapidly. Sam and I moved through so many phases in our relationship so quickly, from the first kiss to my…well our _first_ _time_ to moving in together and then getting engaged. I hardly had time to breathe. It was all done so quickly that we didn't get to celebrate what our love has achieved. We didn't take the time to realize how special and how important each phase was as we just passed them. I just wanted to take a step back and relax. We were just a little too zealous in our relationship.

"No, it's not that I want to stop all together," I could feel my face heating up in embarrassment. "It's just that, we moved through our relationship so hastily, from the first kiss to getting engaged. We were too caught up in the moment I guess. But everything moved so fast and we rushed through everything which we should have seen as pivotal landmarks in our relationship, and taken time out to celebrate them, but we practically blew right through them …" I trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

A thoughtful silence passed as each of us tried to think of a solution to our problem.

"Okay, what if we were to slow it down a little bit, maybe start from the beginning?" I heard Sam ask, breaking the quiet atmosphere.

"What do you mean?" I questioned him, not understanding what he getting at. How could we slow things down? We were already engaged and I didn't want to post-pone the wedding longer just because of this. It'd take years to get married and I don't want us to be one of those couples that are forever engaged.

I then heard footsteps leading away from me. I looked up to see Sam fidgeting with the CD player which was situated by the racks glued on clumsily to the wall to my right. Suddenly a Kiss From A Rose by Seal, my favorite song, played softly and romantically throughout the motel room. Sam walked up to me, bowed down and stretched out his arm, offering me to take it. "Dance, Ms Mesba?"

"This is so lame," I grinned as I got up to accept his offer to dance. I held onto his offered hand with one hand, and the other resting on his back. I leant into him, resting my head against his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart soothing me, feeling more content then I had felt since, I can't even remember when.

"Come on, help me out here," Sam smiled at me. "I'm trying to sweep you off your feet." He fell into step perfectly as we slow danced in the room.

"You don't need to," I responded.

"Why?" he questioned me, giving me a curious look.

"Cause you already have."

∞∞

_Lauren_

I went back to my motel room, fully intent on sorting the whole – you know – kiss thing out with Dean, only to find him sprawled face down on the bed, dead to the world. How…well…

It should probably not have made me feel relieved, but it did. It really did.

I shrugged, and tiptoeing around the clothes covering the floor, I went over to my bag and got out the recipe I'd been meaning to try for – how many years now? Six? Since I was sixteen, in any case. It was hidden inside the inner pocket of a pair of pants I never wore, except in the most extreme circumstances. They were black leather. Let's just leave it at that.

It was still unscarred from my travels, except for the lines where it had been folded over and over – I unfolded it as I headed over to another suitcase. Way down in the bottom was a small case containing five medium sized bottles, filled with a mixture of liquids and powders. Holding it under one arm, I scanned the piece of paper with instructions on it as I headed back to the kitchen.

**How to Bake a Perfect Companion**

(We do not discriminate against sexual preference)

_Ingredients:_

WARNING: many of these ingredients are only for purchase at recognized paranormal enterprises

NOTIFICATION: Flour, water and salt are not included. Everything else is.

_For the base – _

2 cups of plain flour

1 cup of water

1 tsp of salt

½ tsp of human essence

_For gender –_

_Male_

2 tbsp Essence of Male – fresh or dried

¼ tsp Powdered Masculinity

_Female _

2 tbsp Essence of Female – fresh or dried

¼ tsp Powdered Femininity

_Added items: _

Magical pheromones – to give your creation that extra zap! (WARNING: Use with caution, these pheromones are very strong)

Spirit of Muscle Tone – (for males, unless that is how you desire your feminine creation) (of course, you can write down 'well-muscled' in your description slips, but this gives tells the recipe exactly how muscled you want your creation to be, depending on how much you use – instructions on bottle.)

_As to the qualities that you desire in your perfect mate:_

Simply add slips of paper containing the attributes that you wish your creation to possess (written on the paper).

_Method:_

Preheat the oven to 220 degrees Celsius, and lightly grease an oven tray.

Mix the base, adding the water to the flour and salt, then sprinkle the human essence on top of the dough, and mix in a large bowl.

Depending on which sex you desire your creation to be, add the required ingredients. This is the time to add any other ingredients, if you so wish.

Pull the dough out onto a lightly floured board, and knead, until all ingredients are well combined.

Pull off a little bit of the dough, about one sixth of the full mixture. Make a rough mound with the majority, and then create a hole in the centre of the dough, not going through all the way to the board.

Inside the hole, place your chosen qualities, reciting them out loud as each goes in. When the last attribute is inside, cover the hole up with the left over dough. WARNING: Make sure all the paper is hidden inside the dough, otherwise it could catch on fire.

Place the mound onto your greased tray and before you put it into the oven, say this spell over it;

A perfect (wo)man I summon now,

Another way I don't know how,

To last from this here time unto the next light,

Somewhere out there is Mr(s). Right.

After you have said the spell, put the tray into the oven and leave to cook for 15 minutes. When you come back, and open the door, remember to stand back – the effects are immediate.

_Well, this doesn't seem all that hard…_ I thought to myself, opening the box containing all the ingredients needed to make 'the perfect companion'. _I've certainly baked more difficult soufflés… _

I grinned to myself, and grabbed the flour, salt and measuring spoons from the cupboard. On my way past, I switched the oven onto 220 degrees Celsius, and filled up one cup of water. _Who knew when Thom gave me this thing, I'd actually be desperate enough to use it? Thom…I haven't thought about him for ages…_

Thom was a guy I'd fallen in with while Sharika was away in England. He was openly Wiccan – and he was actually magical, unlike many devotes out there. He'd noticed my empath abilities straight away, and I'd started hanging out with him more and more, until we had a relationship almost like mine and Sharika's. Except that, well, Sharika and I have never made out…and Thom and I definitely did. He'd left though, his mum had a job that required them to travel all over the world – as a parting present, he'd given me the Perfect Companion kit (containing large quantities of the gender choice items, human essence, the magical pheromones, muscle tone and slips of paper) – we'd actually made it together as a joke.

I was going to give him my virginity.

Of course, that didn't turn out all that well; his mum had interrupted just as I had started proposing the notion to him. Looking back now, it seems kind of ridiculous – 'giving' someone your virginity as a parting gift. I mean, it's just…and he was leaving… I would have ended up regretting it, I knew that now. Thom and I were friends – best friends with benefits, but still friends. I didn't love him like I want to love someone before I 'give' myself to them. Instead, I gave him a gemstone the size of his fist, that was his favorite color – green – and I'd spelled our image in it. Every time he chanted 'green as my eyes, blue as yours' he'd be able to see us. (My eyes are green-ish, and his were the most vibrant, powerful, knee-trembling blue I have ever encountered. It was just a thing we had going between us, like a codeword, a secret saying. And whenever someone was jealous, or envious, he'd say 'green as your eyes' to me and laugh and I'd say 'blue as yours' whenever someone was sad, or melancholy.)

He'd said he loved me, just before he got into his car. I never saw him again.

I paused over missing the salt, flour and water. _I wonder, what happened to him? _Then I smiled, and went back to my mixing. _I'm sure he's living out a happy, magical, Thom-like existence. _Okay, next add the human essence, sprinkling it over the top.

I did so, then the next step – adding the dried Essence of Male, and Powdered Masculinity. I added a handful of magical pheromones, then picked up the muscle tone, lingering. On the one hand, I did adore abs and the like…but on the other, a man doesn't need all those things to make him perfect. He can have one of those strong bodies, with the muscles lying beneath the skin; concealing his natural strength…he doesn't need to be a cardboard cut-out man or have the muscle tone of a wrestler to turn me on.

God, now I really want to make this guy.

I discarded the Spirit of Muscle Tone, and pulled the dough out onto a board I'd already floured. Kneading it like bread, I read over the recipe again. Okay, next I needed to write down all the qualities I wanted in a guy.

I picked up a pen and the slips of paper. My hand poised over the blank piece of paper. Um…right…

What _did_ I want in a guy?

Okay...I want a guy who's strong, in that protective, heroic kind of way – sacrificial almost, like they'd give their lives for others. Those unspeakably saintly guys had always given me pleasant stomach clenches. Guys who give up everything for others, make me wish I was in danger…well almost…

But he can't be preachy. He has to be…cynical. And funny. Sarcastically so. And he doesn't mention how much he gives up for others. He's strong and emotionally silent – emotionally crippled – because guys like that make me itch to help them. If they are perfect, they are boring. He can't be the strong silent type though, he has to talk a lot, and be comfortable around practically anyone and in any situation – god knows, when you're dealing with me, you have to be prepared for anything.

Okay….what else…

He needs to be sweet, but not overly so, just in those little things that no one else but me would realize. He has to be kind – but not passive. He has to be able to hold his own in a fight. He has to be passionate about things, and have opinions. He has to be a bad boy – rebellious and naughty and able to speak his mind, in fact, hardly ever able to keep his mouth shut, even in the worst of situations he tries to make light of everything.

But when things really are important to him emotionally, he's able to tell me, able to share what's on his mind because –

I blinked down at the papers. My hand as well as my mind had been very busy in writing everything down – what was I trying to write here, a novel? Okay, no more personality stuff, I need physical. Physical is just as important as everything else.

Okay, um… taller than me, obviously. About, six foot? I didn't want a Sasquatch, no offence to Sammy. This guy had to be in kissable reach.

Okay, broad shoulders, but not humongous…undefined muscles in the stomach, but they are obviously there. Strong arms. Tanned skin. Dark, maybe dirty blonde hair. Okay, eyes, eyes…hazel green. I love green eyes…but somehow, hazel green just seemed to fit my perfect guy more than fully green. He has to be a _really _great kisser…and have a big – well, you know.

_He wouldn't be 'perfect' otherwise_, I thought, grinning to myself and finally stuffing the slips of paper into the valley I'd made in my dough mound. Placing the last bit of dough on top, I checked for any bits of paper sticking out – there weren't any. I turned around and opened the door to the oven. Warm air billowed out at me, and sweat immediately sprung up on my upper lip.

_Wait…I'm forgetting something…Oh, shite! _I almost laughed as I remembered what I'd almost forgotten – the spell.

Bending down I muttered to the dough mound – "A perfect man I summon now, another way I don't know how, to last from this here time unto the next light, somewhere out there is Mr. Right." Thom and I had adapted the spell from a Charmed episode – Prince Charmed. Thom didn't think it would work, but I'd told him about Sharika's experimentation with spells like that, and he'd given in. After I'd kissed him. It was an easy way to get my way with Thom, I'd realized. I slipped my creation inside the oven and stepped back, glancing at where I'd left my phone on the table. Okay, all I needed to do was pull the oven door open fifteen minutes from now. That's easy enough to remember.

I hovered in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess I'd made and glancing continuously at my phone and the oven. I didn't open the door though – there was a magical process at work here, I did _not_ want to fuck it up. I winced – recalling the time I'd interrupted Sharika in the middle of making a vanquishing potion. That hadn't been pretty – and she was still snippy at me, even after I'd grown her eyebrows back for her….

Getting really bored I experimented with the James Blunt song You're Beautiful, seeing how high I could possibly go with the words.

"_You touched my heart you touched my soul. You changed my life and all my goals. And love is blind and that I knew when, my heart was blinded by you. I've kissed your lips and held your head. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you. Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me._"

It was funny – I sounded pretty much like a cat dying. Laughing, I just started to sing normally, then glanced back down at my phone.

_Oh my god! It's ready!_

I breathed in deeply, grinned, closed my eyes, and opened the oven door, remembering to step to the side, and pull my face away.

Out of the oven swirled a golden light, which smelled vaguely of bread, and a familiar masculine scent that I couldn't quite place. The golden light hovered a couple of feet away before sinking closer to the floor and coalescing into a human shape. The shape solidified, and became the skin tone of a body that spent just the right amount of time in the sunshine.

It was also very naked, and had its back turned towards me as it stood up. _Oh, oh, oh…NICE. VERY, VERY – OHhhh… Shoulders and buttocks and back and buttocks and thighs and buttocks and calves and buttocks and Achilles tendons…and buttocks… Did I mention his ASS??????????????? I am officially puddle of woman on the floor. _

Something very familiar about my creation's body shape and posture registered in my mind, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to place where –

My 'perfect companion' turned around. Looking at me with smoldering, hazel green eyes, his perfect lips parted in the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen, his dark blonde hair mussed above his wide forehead and perfectly arched brows was an exact, perfect replica –

Of Dean.

∞∞

_Dean _

_Wha…? What the hell is that?_ I wondered, my head briefly rising just above the pillows, so I could hear properly.

"_You touched my heart you touched my soul. You changed my life and all my goals. And love is blind and that I knew when, my heart was blinded by you. I've kissed your lips and held your head. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you. Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me._"

_It sounds like a cat dying_, I thought, and turned my head away from the sound, trying to bury my head under the pillows again. _A cat dying a torturous, horrible, death, involving knives and forks and other cats singing to it – _

_It's just Lauren, _I realized, as I heard her laugh to herself, and then start to sing normally, and not like she was trying to murder her vocal chords.

My mind started to drift off again.

∞∞

_Lauren _

_OHhhh… Oh no. No, _no_. This can _not_ be right. No, no, NO, _I kept repeating over and over in my head as I looked at the naked Dean clone in front of me. _How the – no, he isn't –_

And then he started to come towards me.

I backed away, my hands in front of me. My elbow knocked the glass of water on the counter that I'd been sipping while I waited for my creation to be finished baking, and it tipped over, the glass staying on the bench, but the water pooling onto the floor. I hardly noticed. "No – no – just – don't move –"

"Why?" he asked, not listening to a single garbled word coming out of my mouth. He kept coming towards me. He was as single minded as the real Dean – I recalled the tissue incident, my heart jumping into my throat. Then again… Despite everything, some things were looking up, namely –

_Lauren, keep your eyes above belt level! Now is NOT the time to be –_

"Be-because – the – there's – and then – um – halt! Stop! Stay! About-face?"

He still didn't – and I hadn't looked where I was going, so I backed myself into a corner of the kitchen, right up against the bench. I felt as a tiny, trapped mouse must when cornered by a hungry cat – except, no mouse is fighting with themselves on the issue of whether or not they WANT to be eaten by the cat –

_Okay, don't panic – don't panic – _I started to sidle along it, my hands bracing me as I leant up against the hard surface of the bench, keeping my eyes trained on the intense features of his face, rather than the very tantalizing contours of his body.

How the hell did this happen? HOW??? I went to make a perfect man, and I end up making a guy that looks exactly like Dean?!_ Why me???? I don't even like Dean like that, let alone think he's the perfect guy, I mean, what the hell? _

He was getting closer by the second. I wasn't moving fast eno-

Suddenly he slipped on some of the water I'd spilled on the floor. Out of pure instinct I grabbed to stop him from falling; his hands seized my upper arms, mine his and I steadied him. When he was immobile again, I realized that –

_Oh damn…_my eyes glazed over_. How many pheromones did I use…?_

He looked down at me, as I stared up into his familiar face. It was exactly like Dean's, right down to the tiny, almost invisible freckles across his nose. His hazel eyes were still smoldering with inner fire, and I discovered that _hey!_ – creations can also feel emotions. Very, very strong – very heated – very overwhelming –

I moaned involuntarily, and my eyes closed as I succumbed to the combination of pheromones, his emotions, and very-hot-very-naked-guy syndrome.

He even smelled like Dean.

My eyes flicked open again as his hands moved from my upper arms to my waist, pulling me flat against him. I was only wearing shorts and a tank top. There was a lot of skin on skin going on here –

My head fell back on my neck, suddenly too heavy for me to hold up. "Uhnn – dun do that…" I muttered, struggling to protest as his thumbs stroked my sides. My hands clenched on his biceps. His very, _very_ nice –

He was holding me up as I lost control of my legs – he held my weight with his hands as though I was no heavier than a feather, and my back bent over them. Due to our height differences I could still see his face. He was smiling down at me, a gentle, yet self-congratulatory smile that turned my bones to even more mush.

_No – no – I can't – _

And then he kissed me, and I lost all my remaining control.

My hands slid into his hair, and I pulled his head even closer to mine, deepening the kiss, slanting my head to the side so I could get better access, my eyes snapping closed again.

_Oh God…he even _tastes_ like Dean…_

And then I stopped thinking.

His hands slid up, and up, under my tank, gliding across my skin and making it tingle, and burn. _OHhhhh… _My hands wandered down from his hair, smoothing across his neck muscles, down to his shoulders which I grabbed onto – trying not to collapse on the ground due to the intense sensations literally pouring from him into me, and from me to all over my body.

_Heat. Heat everywhere. It burns, it scorches, it singes, it blazes, it glows, it swallows everything in its wake – its making me – _

I heard someone panting as though they were in pain – and realized it was me as he removed his mouth from mine and began to kiss down my neck. I wasn't in pain. Or was I? I had never had this much – and pain is half pleasure, pleasure is half pain. And he was –

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. And not in a bad way – like with my asthma. It was – just – _who needs to breathe???_

"_What the hell?!_" a familiar voice intruded in on my mind haze.

Could this possibly get any wor-?

"Kyle!?! Lauren?!"

Ok, I guess it can.

∞∞

_Sam _

Shar walked out ahead in front of me, entering Dean and Lauren's motel room, I walked in behind her closing the door behind me. We worked out all our issues, and took everything slowly and romantically this time, instead of passionately like we usually did. Just like the first time we made love. And we couldn't be happier now. Shar was practically glowing.

As I turned around I saw a sight which I never again would want to set my eyes upon as long as I lived.

Dean, naked, and Lauren held up against the bench by my brother's arms…

I glanced down at Sharika, willing my eyes away from the scene. She was as shocked as I was. Her mouth agape, and her expression confused and dismayed.

"Kyle!?! Lauren?!" Sharika yelled, glanced across the room. My eyes followed her eyes path; it led to the bedroom doorway where Dean was currently standing in.

_What the hell!?!?!_

∞∞

_Lauren_

I pushed against replica Dean's shoulder, and looked over it to see the real Dean, plus Sam and Sharika standing in the living room. "Uh…" was the extent of my witty repertoire as the three of them stared at the very naked body still nuzzling my neck. In my defense, I was still in the grip of those magical pheromones. _Maybe a handful was a mite too many…_ "Um…" I pushed my creation off me and stepped around him. _Maybe they would keep thinking it was Kyle…if they didn't see his face and then – have to get away from these pheromones – I CAN'T THINK. _"I can explain…"

The Dean replica followed me around, placing his hands on my waist again and pulling my back against his stomach. He placed his chin on top of my head.

His features were now plain for everyone to see.

"SHAPESHIFTER!" Dean and Sam yelled simultaneously, and guns appeared like lightning in their hands, aiming straight for my creation's head.

"NO!" I screamed. "DON'T!" Dean and Sam faltered, staring at me from the doorway. Sharika was just standing there looking confused. "Uh…" Dean replica's hands started gliding around my stomach, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. My mind went hazy again, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Dean, Sam, Sharika – meet my…uh…meet my…"

"Her Perfect Mate," Dean's voice came from behind me and the real Dean stared at it. Oh, this is getting confusing… The Dean I made can be CD (Clone Dean), and the Dean made by conventional means by John and Mary Winchester can be RD (Real Dean).

"Heh…this all has a perfectly reasonable explanation…" I said, trying to get their attention away from that 'perfect mate' comment. I mean, they would take it the wrong way. They'd think that I made a Dean replica on purpose, when it was all really just a very freakish coincidence.

"She made me to her exact specifications of her perfect male companion. I think she chose well, don't you?"

I choked. "Well, you see – I didn't – that is – you see – he isn't – I mean, he's not _supposed_ to –"

"Look so much like Dean that he could be his twin?"

"That," I answered Sharika. "Heh…in any case…"

"Lauren, please tell me that you didn't use that box that Thomas gave you?"

"Funny story that…" I said, trailing off as CD started tonguing my neck again. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out both the situation, and the fact that Sharika, Sam and Dean (RD) were witnessing it. "Stop that!" I snapped, swatting him with the back of my hand on his forehead.

"You don't want me to," he said, and kept doing it. _I guess I forgot to give him limitations… _

∞∞

_Sharika_

I stared in horror at the imitation Dean as he started to rub the sides of Laurens waist.

_Oh my god…Why are you even surprised? It's Lauren._

She told me about this perfect man, man dough thing ages ago. A friend of her gave it to her while I was in England. Thom, or Thomas, or Tom, something like that. He left before I had a chance to meet him. I just didn't really believe her, I mean, make a perfect man out of flour, water, and salt! I know they did it on Charmed, but I did not think such a thing was possible.

I can't believe she decided to make this in the middle of our Demon hunt! What was it's purpose, to entertain herself for a measly five hours (from my general knowledge this clone would only last until midnight, when the clock strikes twelve he will transform into a lump with burnt pieces of paper inside it)! And why would she want to entertain herself with a fake when she could have the real version? Scared probably? In denial about it? I can see it now, I'll be in my house, like five months pregnant, talking about baby clothes to Lauren, and then out of nowhere she'll shout out '_OH MY GOD I'M IN LOVE WITH DEAN!!!_', then expect everyone else to be shocked at this sudden revelation.

But it could be that she just felt lonely and was desperately in need of some company, _overly-friendly_ company, where she could do or say as she pleased and not suffer the ramifications of it.

A pang of guilt surged through my body. I guess I've been spending so much time with Sam that I haven't paid much attention to my best friend.

That'll change from now on, because I'm going to kill her! There won't be a best friend to pay attention to anymore! WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING!?! Doesn't she know how dangerous it was for her to be around him, and this was WITHOUT the pheromones. She'd probably loose her virginity to a meal by the time he'd turned back.

Even though I was the youngest in the group, I felt like the oldest with Lauren around. She was always getting into trouble like this, and getting herself into jams which she couldn't get herself out of. Like the time when she was trying to pat guard dogs through a wire fence when the rusty zipper on her jacket got caught in the wiring. She pulled as hard as she could, and that is fairly hard, on her sleeve to unbind herself when the entire section of fence fell down. The dogs seized this opportunity to practice the training they received on Lauren. They ran after her and literally chased her up a tree, like a cat. She had to call me on my cell phone to help get her out. I had to call animal control and Lauren had to get a job to pay to repair the fence to avoid any pricey lawsuits of the owner of said fence.

I get that she might be feeling lonely but there was no need to CREATE A MAN OUT OF DOUGH!

Once again, WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING?!?!

"You're right, don't stop, go on just as you please," Lauren moaned.

I looked away from the scene since I had planned to keep my breakfast down, which I was barely able to do. A sour taste filled my mouth as Lauren began panting, moaning and whimpering as the clone turned her around and started to –

Wait, whimpering, Lauren does not whimper. Ever.

"Lauren, how much pheromones did you put in him? Aren't you supposed to put in like a pinch or two?" I asked her.

"A ha-_ah_-ndful!" She said, her eyes closed and her own body now reciprocating.

_Gross. Mental note: remember to ALWAYS knock on Lauren's bedroom door, no matter how urgent your message is. _

"Dude, get her away from you – the fake you," Sam ordered Dean. He backed away slowly, all the while staring in horror at the two figures now pressed up against one another and hands – ew, I'm going to have nightmares about this. He, just as much as I, did not want to go near Lauren and her _mate_. It was worse for him though, he was not only seeing Lauren's reactions to certain touches and movements, but he was also watching a clone, a clone of his brother that was in the final state of undress, performing the actions that encouraged those responses.

"If only I had a camera right now, I could have made thousands from the amateur porn video," Dean commented sarcastically. He cautiously approached the _busy_ couple, as not to get affected by the pheromones.

"Dean, it'll only affect females, so it won't have any effect on you. Just drag her away from it," I told him.

Dean nodded, but still ambled his way over to them non-the-less. He suddenly struck, grabbing Lauren's waist and forcibly yanking her away form her playmate and onto the couch.

"OW!" Lauren shouted, rubbing her waist. Is it just me, or were their tears in her eyes? How hard did Dean jerk her? "What was _that_ for?"

"To get you away from the clone you made of me," Dean replied without missing a beat in annoyed tones. "You know, if you wanted me so badly you could've just asked and I –"

"Shut UP!" Lauren yelled. "He does not look like YOU!"

"Yes he does, exactly the same," Sam argued, eying the now amused imitation of Dean, who had its arms crossed on its chest and wearing a rather large grin on its face.

"No he doesn't!" Lauren continued to fight back stubbornly.

"Lauren we get that you didn't purposely make a Dean, you just put in your likes and what you wanted from your perfect mate, and that turned out to be similar to the features Dean has. That is not the issue right now, the issue we should all be focusing on is the large, naked man in the kitchen!" I said, trying to get everyone's concentration back onto the problem at hand instead of trivial matters.

"He is rather large, isn't he? I made him that way," Lauren grinned, as she stared at the appendage clone Dean carried between his legs. "If Clone Dean is anything like the real Dean, I'm telling you Shar, you got together with the wrong brother."

I ignored her statement as she was still faintly influenced by the pheromones. "Okay, can we get rid of him?"

"No, I want to keep him Sharika. Can't we keep him, please?" Lauren asked sweetly. Her eyes widened, still wet from when Dean had thrown her. She looked almost like a kicked puppy.

I didn't buy her act for a second. "Lauren, we aren't talking about a stray puppy. We are talking about a man made out of water, salt and flour. A man who has the power to get any female within a two meter radius to render herself helpless and swoon over him." Exactly the reason as to why I stood back the entire time. There was no way I want to be doting over Clone Dean, especially when he was in that…condition.

"She's right, he's just going to cause us trouble," Sam agreed with me.

"Well, he's not going to go away till midnight, you guys could do the same," Lauren said. Her eyes became slightly confused. "That is, you can leave now and not return until midnight, please. Now, now?"

"I'm not leaving you alone with that," Dean fought. He stood solidly between Lauren and the fake, almost as if making himself a barrier between them. "I know me, and if that _thing_," he said thing with a mixture of repulsion and fascination, "is anything like me, we are not leaving you alone, until midnight, when it will be gone – according to the two of you. How did you even make it?"

Lauren opened her mouth to retort when sharp knocks came from the door out of the motel room. "Sharika?" A deep, male voice with an English accent asked through the door. "Are you there?"

"Yeah, I am. I'll be there in a minute!" I answered the voice, who I recognized as David. I swiftly waved my hands at the clone, then pointed to Dean and Sam, then pointed to the bedroom. They nodded, and seized the fake, dragging him to the bedroom. The clone didn't put up much of a fight.

"Hey David," I greeted as I opened the door.

David looked down at me. "Your face is flushed, what's wrong?" he asked me in concern.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Okay," he said, not quite believing me. "I asked the guy at the reception where I'd be able to find you, since no one answered your motel room. And he directed me here." David walked into the room, taking a look around. "Hey Lauren, Sam."

_Sam?_ I spun around and saw that Sam was now in the room. Dean and Clone Dean were nowhere in sight. _Thank God._ Sam smiled tensely and nodded in David's direction whereas Lauren responded with an overly cheerful, "Hey Gorgeous, what's news?"

"Nothing interesting." David said, obviously deciding to roll with Lauren's greeting.

"Sorry about last time," Lauren apologized. "With the whole, kicking you in the ribs and calling you a rapist thing. No bad feelings, right?"

"None at all, you were just trying to protect your friend," David said, grinning. "Although your method could still use a bit of work."

"True that. I hurt my foot." She frowned down at the leg she'd stuck out in front of her on saying this, pointing her toes and scrutinizing the foot from all angles.

"I only fractured one of my ribs," David replied with the familiar boyish grin I've become accustomed to. It suddenly hit me how much I missed seeing that.

"Yeah right, I saw you and Sharika walking away to the restaurant," Lauren exhaled as if to prove a point. She looked at him, as though daring him to contradict her.

"Didn't it ever occur to anyone why I was leaning so hard on Sharika?" David asked, an incredulous look on his face. "Especially considering the height difference." David turned to me. "Shortie!" I instinctively whacked him playfully on the arm.

"Then show me your bandages," Lauren challenged.

"Fine!" David agreed, just like I knew he would. He could never turn down an opportunity to show off. He took off his shirt and threw it on my head. He then proceeded to take off the final clothing he had on over the belt, a skivvy, and proudly bared his bandaged covered injury to the room.

My eyes looked over the bandages, and the rest of his chest. He had better, and more defined abs then he had when he was a teen. Not as much as Sam, so he couldn't reign as the best, but it was pretty close.

"Oh, I'm so sorry now," Lauren said, not looking sorry at all as she ogled David's chest. "I feel so very, very bad…" She laughed as David pulled his skivvy over his head and grabbed his shirt from my hands before he was once again fully clothed.

"Shar?" I looked up across the room to see Dean, the real one I think since he was wearing clothes, and calling me. "Can you help me now with this little problem I have?"

"Sure," I replied. I quickly walked towards him and shut the door behind be after telling David to sit down.

"Here," Dean passed me a rope. "We're going to tie this bastard up."


	23. This Was Getting Really Confusing

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

**This Was Getting Really Confusing.**

_Can you hear the sound of laughter  
From the other side of life?  
There are days when I feel like a stranger sometimes  
Tell me, are there any other fools like me?_

_I surrender all._

I Surrender All – Newsboys

_Sam_

I watched Shar run into the room, and closing the door behind her. Damn, why didn't Dean ask me to help him instead? He probably needed her to use her powers against the clone to make sure whatever they were going to do to him was quiet. Well, I'm not much of a magical practitioner but it would have been better for me not to be left to talk to Sharika's first love. It's just too awkward. What am I supposed to say to him?

"So, Sam," David said, suddenly paying attention to me after ignoring me to display his chest to Lauren a few moments ago. I didn't like that he thought he was all that, he wasn't, I was still far more built then he was. "Sharika told me that you met her a year ago."

"Yeah, we did." I didn't feel like extending or elaborating.

Sharika told me about lying to David about our past, as much as I didn't like to lie, I had to agree. She couldn't just tell him that she met me six days ago, and had premonition and then got engaged within three days of knowing me. I, of all people, knew the lies our kind had to tell. I thought back to all the fibs I told my friends, even to the closest ones I had. The only one who knew the truth about me was Rebecca, and only because we had to save her from a shape-shifter a while back.

She told me the story of how we supposedly first met. I came over to Berkley to talk to a professor about a paper of mine, and met Sharika in the hallway. We both needed to see the same professor. The line of people to meet him was long so we talked for awhile before I was called in. I asked her out when I got out of the meeting, and we met for dinner later on at a restaurant. I transferred temporarily to Berkley while a world renowned professor was teaching there. I proposed to her two months ago and now am supporting her emotionally after the kidnapping of her two friends by going on this road trip with her.

"Amen to that," Lauren broke the tense silence hanging over the room. "Sam is such a great fiancé to Sharika, supporting her and loving her. God bless Sam. I just know, deep, deep in my heart that when he is taken up to heaven, he will be crowned a saint. A saint I tell you." She said all this with a completely serious face, with tears appearing in her eyes, and she looked at me, then at David, biting her lip, and breathing as though she was trying to steady herself.

I looked peculiarly at Lauren, not expecting an answer like that. She was probably feeling the need to have David approve of me, just like Sharika was, so she was building me up. Or…she was just being Lauren. Most likely the latter.

This just reminded me, what would I tell my friends when I went back to school? I can tell them that I met her on my road trip with my brother, and then the four of us traveled together. And after a few months I proposed to her. I wonder what they'd think of her. I'm sure that they'll like her, but I could never be a hundred percent on that.

"I try to be," I said to break the silence as David looked at me almost as if he were studying me.

"I hope that I get to know you better Sam," he said, the joviality and goofiness gone from his face. "I want to get to know the guy who Sharika deems good enough to be with her."

I didn't know whether or not to hit him. Sharika and I are perfect for each other! Who the hell is _he_ to say otherwise?!? A guy she was close to six years ago?! What makes him think that I would care what he thought?!? What makes him so sure what he has to say about me would be considered by Sharika?! If he tells her he doesn't like me she'll just drop me?!? Fat chance, we both saw what was going to happen in the future, despite whatever the hell he, or anyone else, has got to say about me. I love her, and she loves me, and that's all we need.

"And I hope to get to know the guy –" I stopped myself from finishing the sentence. I wanted to end with '_the guy who supposedly cared for her so much that he ran away and left Sharika heartbroken and mourning_', but I knew the consequences of that action. Sharika would blow up at me later on, not literally, and then we'd end up in a fight. That's the last thing we needed now. I should at least make an effort to be nice to him, for Sharika's sake, I resolved. I don't want to cause her any distress. "– who was her best friend throughout her year in England."

"Yeah!" Lauren agreed. "She's told us practically nothing about England; I need some dirt on her so I can blackmail her, gimme some dirt David." She walked over to the couch and patted the space next to her.

"She worked at a strip club," David told Lauren, as he sat down next to her.

She already told me about that, I doubt that there's anything I didn't know about Sharika.

I slowly ambled over to the recliner, curiously staring at David, sizing him up for all he was worth.

"Really? How, when, why?" Lauren said very fast, a shocked look on her face. I didn't know if she was faking it or not, but it looked believable.

"Why did you fake your death?" I asked him, voicing the question that's been in my head since I first saw him.

"Yeah David," Lauren chorused. "And of all things, an exploding microwave! That has got to be the stupidest way a person could die, like, ever."

"My uncle died that way," David said, with a grave expression.

"Oh…umm…so why'd you do it David?" Lauren asked, blushing like crazy. She looked positively horrified, though she was trying to hide it behind her usual confident exterior.

"And it was the FBI's idea, not mine," David grinned to show he took no offence. "I wanted to die in a car crash while I was in a drag race with Sharika, Alfred and Tamara. I had it all planned out, after I win I go to press on the brakes, only to find out that someone cut them cause they were jealous of my skills, then the car drives off the edge of a cliff and into the ocean, forever lost in the deep, mysterious, and insert a whole bunch of poetic adjectives here, sea. But the FBI was too cheap to give me a cool death like that. And to answer the original question, there was this man, named Jeremy Stool, he threatened to kill me, so the FBI faked my death and gave me a whole new identity, a whole new life, for my safety. They kept me in a safe house a few months after I 'died'. I couldn't tell anyone that I was alive; no one was allowed to know, except for my parents and my older sister. But Stool was captured recently so I could come out into the open."

"OHhhh…interesting, very, very interesting David." Lauren said, her head resting on her hands. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as she considered him. Suddenly I wanted to know what she was thinking – Lauren, because of her 'talents' could very easily learn things about people. And I wanted to know everything about David. Especially what relationship he intends to pick up with Sharika, whether it be a platonic one, or a romantic one, and even, considering the reactions she's elicited in several men over the past few days, a strictly sexual one.

Lauren glanced at me and smiled.

"Why'd you come here, of all places?" I asked David, avoiding Lauren's eyes. It was obvious she knew how I was feeling. I couldn't see why he'd want to come here, there were no job aspects and it was quite a small and fairly simple town.

"Because Sharika's here," he answered simply, an honest look in his eye.

_What the hell am I supposed to say to that? How am I supposed to respond?_ I mean, he obviously did share a close bond with Sharika at one time, and clung onto that, but Sharika has moved on. He should too.

It's not that I don't want them to be friends, or that I can't stand Shar having male friends, it's just that he was in love with her. Well, that's what I'd deduce from what Sharika's told me about the way he _acted _around her. Guys can just tell when other guys are into a girl. And David was head over heels for her then. He clung onto the belief that he and Sharika were still close, that they still felt the same way about one another. I just didn't want him thinking that he could pick up where he and Shar left off.

I fell back on something I used to get out of anything I couldn't deal with – I smiled, and ducked my head, as I did whenever Dean made one of his smart ass comments.

"Right…"

∞∞

_Lauren _

"Right…" Sam said, and even though he looked completely at ease, I could tell that he was weirded out.

I was too.

Though for a different reason.

I mean, just this morning it had seemed like my powers were getting stronger, and that I was getting a minimal amount of control over them – I mean, I'd been able to connect with Sam, and hadn't fallen over and gotten all not speak-y – but now…? With David, no matter how much I concentrated, it seemed like my powers were completely blocked off. I wasn't getting anything off him at all – not even that crawly spidery feeling. I suppose that it was as I'd thought at the beach – it was just the cold going through my shirt, and had nothing to do with David.

But this total vacuum – it was strange, like David _had _no emotions.

"Okay, done!" Sharika said, walking out of the room that they'd taken CD to. She had a very weird expression on her face, like she just saw a pigeon kicking a rhinoceros over. Which, by the way, would be…very strange. To say the least.

Suddenly I got this spark of emotion from David – like…happiness and remorse…? Like his favorite uncle had died, but left him a billion dollars! Okay…not quite.

This disproves my theory on my powers whacking out, doesn't it? I mean, I can even feel Sammy's emotions from where he is on the opposite couch, stewing over everything David hadn't said. It's just David himself.

Then again…maybe I'm just not close enough to David yet? Do my powers need time to get used to people? I mean, sure, I get feelings off random people, but they're really strong ones, aren't they? I'm really confused…

"Well, anyways, David's going to be away for the next couple of days, so we're going out. Okay, bye."

"Wait, do you guys want to come?" David asked us, all polite and civil and suck-y up-y. How cute, like he wants to make a good impression on us. But I don't want to spoil their vibe. And Sharika is definitely shooting me death stares, like, _don't say yes, or you will wake up dead in the morning. _Not that she'd say that. And not that you _can _wake up when you're dead because – well, because you're dead.

"Noooo…" I said, drawing the word out with a bored intonation. Wait… "Unless we can take CD out! Can we take him Sharika, can we???"

"Noooo…" Sharika imitated me. Whore.

"Why not??? He needs to go out! He needs to _breathe_ the free air! He needs to go _outside_, and feel _alive_!" I bounced up onto the balls of my feet, and gave her an imploring look, clasping my hands together in front of me and trying to balance myself on the couch. "How could you treat him this way? Like a caged animal! It's inhumane I tell you! _Inhumane_!"

"Who the hell is CD?" David asked.

"Her made up friend," Sharika said, as though implying that I had an _imaginary_ friend. _Oh, come on Shar. At least make up something that's halfway believable. No one would believe that I – _

"Oh, okay," David said, and shrugged. And….that's it? That's all he's going to say?

_Okay…How could he accept that so easily…?_

I AM NOT THAT INSANE!!!!!!!!!

I'm NOT.

Am I?

"Well, since that's all cleared up, we're going to go. Bye Sam, Lauren. Oh, and Dean." (Dean had just appeared in the doorway of where they'd taken CD. Okay…I have to come up with a reason to be allowed to go in there when Sharika leaves…yeah, I've got nothing.)

"Bye Shar, bye Gorgeous," I said, and waved at the two of them. I glanced back to where Dean was standing, still outside the door, arms crossed. Damnit.

"See ya," David said and waved, closing the door behind them.

Oh. Oh, _right_. I just realised. I am alone with three males. Sam and two Deans.

This is going to be awkward. Isn't it? I mean, I've been alone with Dean, but we could handle that, because, well, because. It's us. But I hadn't been alone with Sam _and_ Dean yet, because Shar had always been there. I can't believe she abandoned me like this…

"So," I said, affecting the chipper attitude I always did when feeling awkward, or out of place. "What's new with you two?" I grinned, and reclined back down, coming off of my ankles which had started to hurt from my squatting position. "Done anything fun lately?"

This reminded me of my first memory of Sharika and I. It had been in year eight sometime…and I was feeling awkward. Let's just say, I wasn't surprised that we became friends a year later, rather than at that time…

They both just looked at me, Dean coming to sit down next to me on the couch. I stiffened for a second, wondering if it was the real Dean, or not, but the drugging effect of the magical pheromones didn't occur, so it must be the one who's going to start being a dick to me at any moment. Sam, though he was trying to affect interest in the people who were still in the room, obviously wasn't. Interested, I mean. He was being all jealous, etcetera, over Sharika and David.

Mostly David.

"So, you made me? Out of dough?" Dean asked me, a grin starting to spread over his face. Yeah, that _would_ amuse you, wouldn't it? Ugh.

There are two ways to deal with this – the one that was already struggling to claw its way out of my throat, that is, denial, screaming and 'no way in hell do I like, or am attracted to you dean's. The other is to do something unexpected and take advantage of it.

"Yes," I said simply, choking my impulse to deny everything. I know I don't like Dean that way, nor am I in any way attracted to the idiot, but they continue to not be able to understand this fact, and I continually need to try and educate them on it. In any case, they both weren't expecting me to accept and agree to Dean's comment – so it took a second for my answer to sink in – a second in which I'd leapt over the couch and had opened the door to the bedroom where CD was tied up.

"Wai-"

I slammed the door shut and locked it. It would deter them for practically no time – Dean, I knew, could pick locks, and so, presumably could Sam. And they'd only try that if the quick approach of kicking down the door didn't work.

The Dean I'd made was tied up on the bed, and even from over here I could feel the pheromones taking over my brain. I wondered briefly if they'd still been affecting me while I was out in the lounge, and if that was what had made me execute this stupid 'rescue' plan. Then all thoughts were gone when I noticed the sunset's play of fire on his golden skin, and the rough ropes digging into it.

I scurried forwards, Sam and Dean knocking on the door behind me, and calling out for me to stop being an idiot. I hadn't realised they'd try to rationalize first. It just gave me extra time, until they realised I was incapable of being rational right now.

Grabbing my pocket knife out of the back of my jeans, I swiftly cut the ones at his ankles, and his eyes smiled at me from over his gag. I reciprocated, climbing on top of him, as I had the real Dean – when doing the opposite of untying him – and cut the ones that bound his wrists too.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered, hearing Dean warn Sam he was going to kick the door in. I grabbed his hand, some of Dean's clothes off the floor, and we jumped out of the window. "Quick!" I said, and we ran around the back of the building. _They'd be after us in no time – we need somewhere to hide – somewhere to hide – oh man – oh man – _

"Calm down," Dean said, and brushed a hand over my cheek. I closed my eyes, my heart fluttering in my throat. Was it only the pheromones in him that made me feel this way? Or was it –

"Where should we hide?" I muttered, feeling time close in on me, and I grabbed his hand again, just running. We needed to get him dressed, right _now_. Two people running away from something was suspicious enough as is, but with one of them – a very hot one of them tainted with magical pheromones – streaking? Bad, bad, _bad_.

I'd made sure that we ran on the concrete path that looped around the back of the motel, so that they couldn't track our footsteps, and they couldn't be sure when we'd stopped or gone on towards the town. Spotting a gap under the motel building – the motel was held up on brick foundations, the gaps between them covered with barbed wire – I shoved Dean under it, and scrambled in myself, hearing the other Dean's and Sam's loud footsteps closing in behind us.

"Further in!" I hissed, shoving at his thighs and we crawled further under the building, the dirt and rough grasses tough on my bare knees and elbows, as we had to crawl on our stomachs to go as fast as possible. It was tall enough that I'd be able to crouch, if I ducked my head – but we needed _speed_ –

When we were about eight meters from where we'd entered the hole, I grabbed his ankle to stop him, looking over my shoulder to see the other Dean's and Sam's boots pausing just outside the barbed wire hole.

If they bent down now, they'd see us – we were in full view, unless we tried to shuffle behind one of the brick pillars. But then they'd hear us. The only thing we could do right now is hope.

"Where could that bloody woman have gotten to?" I heard Real Dean's exasperated growl from where I was, and suddenly CD's face was by my shoulder, watching their boots with me. I held a finger to my mouth, and he nodded, rolling his eyes. I smiled, as tense as the situation was, and leant my head on his shoulder. As uncomfortable as I was right now, he had to be a million times worse off – naked and lying on his stomach as he was.

The pheromones had taken hold again, their grasp having weakened a little while I was preoccupied with getting us hidden – I should still be scared of them finding us, as close as they were, but already my mind was going hazy, and all I could really think about was how smooth his skin was, and what it might taste like after he'd been running and crawling under buildings.

"I don't know Dean! Do you think they might have gone into town, like the clone was?"

"Well, its Lauren, you can't think that she'd be practical enough to think about the fact that he was naked, especially under the grip of those pheromones Sharika was going on about. You should have seen your fiancé while we were trying to tie him up. She had to keep pinching herself to stop from undoing the knots."

"Then again – that may be what she's counting on. Us thinking just that."

"_Lauren?_"

"Okay, let's keep going then – we should be able to follow the trail of drooling women."

"Damn straight."

The boots turned, and ran towards the town.

Nice. _Really_ nice. They think that I wouldn't be practical enough to realise that a naked Dean would attract too much attention? I mean, what the hell? They must have a seriously low opinion of me – mostly Dean, but Sam too, if he's going to give in that easily.

I felt an angry pout appearing on my mouth, and my eyebrows drawing down. Is that really what they think of me? I hadn't been able to get a grasp of their emotions; it had all happened too quickly. But – for them to see me in that light. It hurt.

Sharika would have known better – wouldn't she? My mind ricocheted back to last night, when she'd been making fun of my flighty nature. Maybe she wouldn't have, at that.

"Hey…" clone Dean whispered to me, his breath stirring the hair on my temples, as my head still lay against his shoulder. "Don't worry about them."

I burrowed my head into the groove where his neck and shoulder met and sighed. "Yeah…we'd better get you dressed huh?"

"Probably. Though I know I'd usually rather go without, right now clothes might be a good idea."

"When were you ever afraid of getting dirty?" I asked, and giggled. I sat up, bending my head to look down at him, and so that it wouldn't hit the roof above me. He wasn't going to be able to put his clothes on without help – we weren't going to be moving from this place until he was dressed, or until I see a spider – the space was to cramped for him to be able to move appropriately. "Here, give me the clothes."

He passed them up to me, and I sorted them out. I'd grabbed a pair of jeans, one sock, Dean's t-shirt that I'd accidentally on purpose spilt soda on the other night, and a skivvy. No underwear or boxers – but then again, guys went without when they were wearing jeans sometimes anyway (in Australia it's called free-balling). Especially if they thought they were going to get laid.

And the way Dean was looking up at me right now, his hazel green eyes glinting in the half light coming in through the wire, his mouth curved up slightly on one side, his dark hair with sprigs of grass clinging to it, and his naked body sprawled out alongside mine, I wouldn't put it past myself to be unzipping those jeans two seconds after I'd done them up.

I swallowed, my mouth dry from the combination of running, fear of discovery, and desire – plus those all important pheromones. "Come on," I muttered hoarsely. "Jeans first."

I maneuvered around until I was between his feet, and trying not to stare too hard at his – um, you know – as he flipped onto his back, I gripped the waistband of the jeans and pulled them up over his feet, concentrating on the task at hand as much as I could.

I pulled them up over his ankles, his calves, his knees, and half way up his thighs before I glanced into his eyes again. He was openly grinning now, obviously amused at my discomfort. "What?!" I asked crankily, my voice still hushed, in case Dean and Sam decided I wasn't so stupid after all, and came back this way. Plus the floors above our head weren't that thick, so if there were anyone in the room above us, they'd be able to hear us pretty easily.

"This is just a new experience for me, that's all." He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at the floorboards above us. "Getting dressed by a woman, instead of getting undressed."

I harrumphed. "Everything is a new experience for you. You're barely two hours old." I pulled at the jeans, but they weren't going anywhere without a little assistance. "Wanna lift your hips for me?" I asked, still irritable. _He found my efforts not to latch onto him amusing? Let's see how amusing he finds it when I fasten his jeans up too fast and catch that attribute of his in the zipper! _

Not that I would. It was _my_ appendage, and I don't like bad things to happen to my stuff. Besides, he wouldn't be doing many extra-curricular activities with it and me, if it was bleeding, would he?

He lifted his hips off the dirty ground, and I pulled the jeans up to his hips, then settled them on his waist. "New experience for you too?" he asked, as I tried not to stare, wondering if I should also do the zipper up anyway – I mean, I'd done the rest – but he can do it himself…

"Yes, it is, actually. I have never dressed anyone but myself, and my little brother until he was three. And _he_ was not pointing certain pieces of his anatomy in my direction!" I hissed, and moved to grab the skivvy.

_Why am I acting like this? It's not like I haven't seen penises before. It's not like I haven't touched penises before. It's not like I haven't done many, many things with penises. Why did I feel so embarrassed and fumbling and ridiculous? Why did the sight of this _particular_ penis make me want to run away screaming, as well as…well, I'm sure everyone knows. _

Dean laughed quietly, and I heard his zipper fastening. _Now it will be safe to turn around_ – I thought to myself, grumbling. The skivvy held in my hands, I turned back around on my hands and knees. He was still lying there on his back, his jeans on now, but his dirt smudged chest and arms still bare.

_Damn the bastard. Why did he have to look like this? Why did my spell have to work? Why do I want to give up on putting the clothes on him, and put myself on him instead?_

He was looking straight into my eyes, and the pheromones were teasing at my control when he said it, a grin tugging his beautiful lips. "Know what'd look good on me? You."

Amazing how in tune our thoughts were. Probably because he's made to know exactly what I want, even before I want it.

I dropped the shirt somewhere in the dirt, and he grabbed my hand. Suddenly I was lying flush on top of him, straddling his thighs, his hands in my hair and my mouth dueling with his for domination.

_Things between Dean and I always happened like this – sudden and aggressive and needy – no – it's not Dean – except for this afternoon – that kiss – slow – soft – beautiful – _

_God damn pheromones…_I though to myself. _God damn Dean…god damn…don't ever stop…_

My hands were in his hair now, his gripping my butt and pulling me even closer against him. I moaned, the sound captured by his throat. _Damn…I could kiss him forever. Forever and ever and never get bored. I could fall in love with kisses like these. I could fall in love with a person who gave kisses like these. Oh god…He kisses just like the real –_

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you, by now you shoulda somehow realised what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…_"

My phone started vibrating in the pocket of my shorts, and I grunted. _Answer, don't answer – _

Clone Dean rolled on top of me, pressing me into the dirt, his chest grazing my breasts as he moved up to kiss my mouth again.

_Don't answer for sure. _

"…_Back beat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you've never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now…"_

My phone continued to emit the song, and dug into my hip as Dean's weight pressed me into the ground. It wasn't a suffocating weight at all – it was nice – it was comfortable – it was a complete and utter turn on.

"_And all the roads we have to walk are winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding, there are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how…Because maybe…you're gonna be the one that saves me…and after all…you're my Wonderwall…"_

"Found you!" Dean's voice crowed, and I jerked my head to the side, and looked behind me to see Dean's angry and Sam's relieved faces looking at us through the barbed wire hole.

I moaned – a combination of submission and frustrated desire as the other Dean rolled off of me. He knew that I really didn't want to continue this in front of the others. At all.

∞∞

_Dean_

I remember thinking that – and then, the feeling like panic as Sam and I had tried to knock down the door, the rush to catch up to them – _damn she could run fast, even with a naked me holding her back _– thinking that they'd gone on to town, but the feeling I'd had like, no, she really wouldn't be that stupid. I'd had a flash of inspiration, and had called her phone, walking back with Sam the way we'd come. And there they were – me on top of her, pressing her into the ground, half naked. At least she'd managed to get some pants on me.

She'd just looked back at me, her eyes almost completely gold, just as they always turned, I'd realised, when she was turned on, and then I'd gotten off of her, and they'd come crawling out. I'd just stood there, waiting until she'd climbed out after my replica, then pulled her up by her wrist. I hadn't let go until we were back in the motel lounge room.

And now, here we were, back in the room Lauren and I shared, all of us sitting on the couches and in the chairs, in awkward silence.

It's been like this for an hour and a half now.

Sammy of course, was brooding about Sharika and David – which Lauren didn't make better with her comments about them possibly having wild, breathless sex in the restaurant bathroom stalls – and could probably do so for another hour and a half. I've been cleaning – make that _trying_ to clean – my guns and knives, but I kept getting distracted by the other me, and Lauren who were giggling next to me on the couch, and kept _on_ mentioning wild, breathless sex – not for Sam, but for themselves.

"Stop that!" I heard Lauren whisper, not very softly, and she laughed again, this throaty sound in the back of her throat that made me even harder than I already was. _God damn it. Maybe if I sit between them, they'll STOP. _

_Good idea Dean, no really. They'd probably just end up doing it AROUND you. _

I glanced over at them again – my clone had his hands on her waist, and was kissing her neck – Lauren's head was back to give him easier access, and her eyes were closed, her hands gripping his hair. She was almost in his lap.

_ANYTHING had to be better than this. _

"Okay you two, move aside, I need some help cleaning this," my mind supplied, as I stood up, and positioned myself like I was about to sit between them. Lauren's eyes opened and she looked up at me, eyes still molten gold. She blinked, then looked down at the other me, who had let go and moved aside, to give me room.

_Wait, why…? _

I gave a mental shrug and sat down. Lauren looked like a person waking up from a deep sleep, as she stared at the sawn-off shotgun I held in my hands. I'd unloaded all the rock salt, so it wouldn't go off, and could clean it safely. Of course, I'd already finished doing it – but I could do it again, if it meant they'd stop palming each other for _half a fucking hour. _

"Uhnn…" Lauren groaned, then rubbed her eyes with her fists. "I'm hungry. You guys hungry? Good. I'm going to go make – food. Food is good." She stood up, and darted towards the kitchen.

My clone didn't follow her, he just sat there, studying the guns I hadn't cleaned yet with a practiced eye – the look I always had on my face when looking over my weaponry. I felt the familiar weird tingle go up my spine that I did every time I looked at him. Everything he did was an exact reflection of me – I could see me doing every single thing he did, and it was starting to weird me out. Starting? _Starting!?_ It had freaked me out as soon as I'd seen it touching Lauren in the kitchen, as did her complete and utter trust in him since.

She just didn't realise that if Sam and I left him alone with her for more than_ ten minutes_, he'd be continuing – and finishing – everything he'd been trying to do since she made him. In other words – fuck her brains out.

How could she – how could she not _see_ that?

I stood up, and stalked towards the kitchen. I had to make her see sense. It was – it was _ridiculous_, how she just blindly went wherever he did, and those damn pheromones could not be the whole cause. It was Lauren herself.

It's not that I would ever hurt her – it's just that I _knew_ she would regret it afterwards. Not having sex with me of course, she'd be wanting it again for the rest of her life…just losing it to a made up creation, that wouldn't even be around the morning after. She was that kind of woman – impulsive, but likely to be broken up about what had happened afterwards, because she hadn't thought it through properly.

She reminded me of myself, at times.

She was humming to herself – Back In Black, by ACDC? – as she cut up vegetables for the saucepan next to her. "_Back in black, I hit the sack…_" she muttered to herself, as her hand dropped some zucchini into the sizzling pan, not looking up from what she was doing. "_I've been too long I'm glad to be back, yes, I'm let loose, from the noose, that's kept me hanging about…_" I just watched her as she stood there, her knife cutting the vegetables into chunks, mumbling that song and putting the cut vegetables into the pan. My anger drooped as I looked at her, oblivious to my presence for once. It was peaceful, almost, not having to insult her for once, or feel like throttling her. She just stood there, cutting, and dropping, and singing. "_I've been looking at the sky, 'cause it's gettin' me high; forget the hearse 'cause I never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes, abusin' every one of them and running wild…"_

Suddenly she turned around. "Oh, hey…come to help me with my vegetables?" she smiled slyly at me, holding up a carrot before nibbling slightly on the end, not breaking eye contact with me the whole time. She – "Oh wait," she said, dropping her hand to the side and turning back around. "It's just you."

"Look, stay away from him." Considering her reaction to me entering just now, I couldn't very well trust her to be around him. I could barely trust myself. Just seeing her in the kitchen when we'd first discovered the two of them, 'my' hands all over her, as she made those erotic noises in the back of her throat – I was half way not kidding when I'd mentioned making porn out of it. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.If I felt that way, imagine what a me, whose feelings were reciprocated, would do.

"Why not?"

"Don't go near him until he dies okay? Just listen to me for once."

"Why?" she asked, savagely chopping up the carrot. "Why should I? It's not like he's dangerous or anything." She threw the pieces of carrot into the pot.

"He _is_ dangerous."

"_No_, he isn't."

"He'll take advantage of you!"

"_No_, he wouldn't!"

"Look, I would, and so would he – because he's me, Lauren, okay?"

"No, you wouldn't!"

I laughed slightly, tilting my head to the side._ I wouldn't? Okay, fine, you damn, annoying, stubborn bitch – I'll prove it to you! _

And then, the second time that day, I grabbed her, pulled her to me, and kissed her. This time, it wasn't gentle, tender or slow – even at first. I was going to teach her a _lesson_.

∞∞

_Sam_

As I sat in the recliner, almost unmoving, I couldn't help but think what that David guy could be doing with Sharika. I know that there isn't a snowball's chance in hell that anything would actually happen between them, and if it did, for example David launching himself onto Shar, there is no way that she would reciprocate.

All I need is what's inside me, my gut instinct which I've followed since Jess's death, and which has always lead me to the correct conclusion, to know that Sharika and I are meant to be. We're soul mates; we're going to spend the rest of our lives together happily. And David can't do a thing to stop that.

But there is still that nagging voice in my head warning me that David is bad news. But that could be because I was a little jealous. I know that I know practically everything about her, and her time in England, but David was the one who was there with her. He was the one getting into the same predicaments with her; he was the one who helped her out of them.

He was her first love.

It's not just their history, it's the say he regards Sharika, almost like she belongs to him or something. '_I want to get to know the guy who Sharika deems good enough to be with her_'. When he uttered that sentence my blood pressure rose steeply. Who does he think he is?!? Just because he used to be her love then does not give him the right to judge me. Sharika is with me now and he just has to deal with it.

Not only that, he's been hogging her to himself for the past few days. I wanted to spend time with Sharika, and I was entitled to that right more then he was. I was going to marry her.

"Sammy, stop over thinking things," the clone Dean told me, after the real Dean and Lauren left to do who knows what.

"What?" I asked him, slightly annoyed. Who was he to give me advice, he wasn't even real.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he replied coolly. He leant forwards and gave me a knowing look.

Whether Lauren will admit it or not, this was Dean exactly to a point. How could she still continue to deny her feelings? If she, and Dean, keep on going on like this it's going to get very annoying for those around them. Thank god that I got to miss out on the long wait, and got to go straight to the relationship I wanted.

"Look Dean, clone Dean, whatever, it's not any of your business," I answered curtly.

I get that my fiancé is attractive, and that it would ensue other men to look at her. But the entire bar, and then all the male customers, and majority of the male employee's at Alexandra's, and not to mention those who were staring awestruck at her at the party we went to (male and female). It's a little overwhelming. Jess was unbelievably beautiful as well, but I never seemed to have this problem with her. She didn't seem to attract nearly as much attention as Shar did.

"Well, I'll tell you this. You get frustrated, Shar notices, you two get into a fight, Lauren gets distracted when she tries to help, and I don't end up getting randomly kissed by her. Or _anything_ _else_. So it's my problem too." He grinned his Dean grin at me.

"Should have known that's all you care about," I muttered under my breath.

No matter what he says, or jokes about, he was actually trying to help me for me. There's always been an underlying desire to help out his family within Dean. I know he'd do anything for me, for dad, and soon, hopefully, before she officially becomes a Winchester, for Sharika as well. I'd do anything for him as well.

"David is just her friend, you are her fiancé, there's a major difference in the way she'd feel about him in comparison with you. She loves you man, I don't know why but she does seem to have a certain amount of affection for you. So stop worrying about it. David won't steal her away, she won't let him. She loves you too much for it to happen, and cares about your guy's relationship over practically anything else. And you know that you two end up hooking up for life. So stop your whining and enjoy your time with her." The clone gave me an earnest look.

I didn't know what to make of that, he was right. I'll just let it go, and be happy with the present. Nothing is wrong, nothing wrong ever happening hasn't been indicated. I'm just worrying over nothing. But still…I get uneasy feelings when it concerns David.

It surprised me that my brother contained such wisdom at times. He's always been so serious and clammed up to let me see. But then again, his knowledge on different types of women did greatly overshadow mine.

"Sure, thanks man, I guess," I said, feeling strange at thanking a man made out of flour. How long did he have left anyway? About ten minute or so?

"No problems man, now that _that's_ over, I want to know something," Dean said, giving me a mischievous smile.

"What is it?" I asked feeling weary. After a serious moment Dean always covers it up, or tries to diffuse the atmosphere with a joke. To get rid of the 'chick flick moment' vibe.

"Ever think of getting freaky in bed with her powers?"

∞∞

_Lauren_

I was stunned.

I never thought Dean was the kind of guy to teach a girl a lesson, in such a way. He was notoriously protective and indifferent when it came to emotions and such. And yet, here he was, pashing me, just to prove that the clone I'd made of him would do the same.

All to protect me.

This was getting really confusing.

For him too. His emotions weren't all that coherent when he'd grabbed me, just seconds earlier. And as he kissed me, his big hands clenched on my waist, his mouth hard on mine, they did not become any clearer. In fact, they became even more tangled.

Kind of like my own at the moment.

See, despite the fact that I had a Dean in the other room that could literally take my breath away, and I didn't see this Dean in that light – he was still a goddamn wonderful kisser.

And I _wanted_ to kiss him back.

Even though I knew that he didn't actually want to be doing it, he was just trying to protect me, just trying to teach me a lesson.

_Fuck it all_, I thought, and grabbed his hair, kissing him back as savagely, as wildly and angrily as he was kissing me. _Stupid asshole. _

_Him, or you? _another voice asked inside my head.

_Both of us. _

I mean, someone out there must be laughing at me. I am a complete and total idiot, I know exactly what Dean is doing, and for what reasons…but I still _want_ him.

Badly.

∞∞

_Sharika_

I opened the door to Lauren and Dean's apartment, not knowing what to expect. Considering two of the factors involved. Lauren, and the pheromones that were getting Lauren to act upon her every whim.

They even had me under its spell, that is, until I pinched myself so my brain would distract itself by focusing on the pain rather then the clone and his unnecessarily massive, and dangerous, level of pheromones. It could reach any woman that was at a two meter radius! Once again, what was Lauren thinking??

I turned to close the door as I glanced back to see David drive off in his Mercedes.

_Good luck to him…_

He wasn't going to be here for the next few days. The record company he worked for called him in the middle of dinner for an emergency. I asked him worriedly what it was, thinking that he lost his job or something. But he assured me that it wasn't anything major that would have severe repercussions, other then the state of his emotional condition when he returns. He explained that he was going to fly out to L.A. and work with an artist, wouldn't tell me who no matter how much I tried to persuade him otherwise, because the s/he wanted a say in their song lyrics. '_It'll be an overbearing, bastard who understands nothing and expects everything from me. S/he just wants some sort of credibility when people ask him/her about the songs they sing. I'm going to be in hell for the next few days._' I responded dryly, playfully berating him on having such a dim view on the topic. Anyways, he told me that he'd call me when he came back.

I waved at him, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see.

_Now, time to see what damage has been done…_

A dreading sensation entered my stomach as my mind rewound past the hour I spent with David and onto Lauren and her _man friend_.

_Lauren better have kept herself under control!!_

But I doubt it. I expect to hear about how Lauren tried to make some sort of daring escape with her creation and had to hide under the building to evade Sam and Dean. If she did that, since she would have been under the call of the high amounts of a certain chemical, she would have forgotten to turn her phone off. Actually, she would have forgotten anyways, she's just like that. I tell her one thing, two minutes, not even that, three seconds later she forgets. But back to my point, Dean and Sam would have tried calling her, not expecting for their simple plan to actually work, and then followed the vocals of Oasis to her hidden location.

That or she actually beat Sam and Dean unconscious to spent time with her perfect mate. And I wouldn't be surprised to see the two knocked out bodies on the floor and the window open. Lauren always likes to take the back door, it's less conspicuous that way. She wouldn't want to be attracting any attention, and would want to keep her woman made man to herself. But then again, she wouldn't be thinking clearly, as said pheromones would be working their magic on her.

Oh god, I hope she isn't in a mortal, fight to the death, combat out there with some other unfortunate woman who also fell for the pheromones as well. I can see it now, Lauren and a tall red haired lady, at a crowded mall, circling each other, one with a knife in her hand and the other a sharp piece of glass she obtained when she broke the store window with her bare fist in her desperate search for a weapon. Both with seriously threatening expressions on their faces, and Dean near them, but far enough away to avoid any harm being done to himself, enjoying the concept of two women fighting over him, and a crowd of people circling around them.

I turned to face the room only to see Sam sitting in the recliner giving Dean an incredulous look.

"Hey guys," I greeted them.

They both raised their heads, and acknowledged my presence in their different ways. (Sam smiled and said hi, almost looking relieved. Dean just nodded.)

I surveyed the room, there was one, well two, things missing. Lauren and Cloean. (Clone + Dean Cloean. It's too annoying to keep saying Clone Dean.)

"Where's Lauren?" I asked Sam. _Calm down, she might be in the toilet and Dean probably got her to somehow get rid of Cloean. _

"And where is Clone Dean?"

"They're in the kitchen –" Sam started to say, but I ran off into the room he mentioned before he could finish his sentence.

Great, I leave for an hour or so, and Sam and Dean decided to get lax with the blonde one and the hazardously charming lump of dough that Lauren conceived for god knows what reason. Don't they know how perilous it is for her, Lauren, to be alone with him?! The pheromones speak for themselves but add to that equation the fact that Lauren was already harboring testosterone like urges and desires to commit against the real Dean…this is going to spell disaster for us all.

I skidded past the corner and barged into the kitchen, bracing myself to see what I have been fearing for the past few seconds.

"Lauren –"

_Oh crap_…

They were standing in the middle of the kitchen, Lauren with her lips pressed up against Cloean in the middle of the room. She had her hands in his hair, his arms around her in a tight hold, hands on her back, bringing her as close as he could without breaking her spine.

_I have to stop this, NOW!_

Without hesitating I telekinetically jerked Cloean away from Lauren, breaking any physical contact they had, and placed him on the wall, taking Lauren out of the two meter danger zone he carried around with him.

"LAUREN! What are you doing?!? I told you to stay away from him!" I yelled.

How could she do this? It wasn't only me, Dean and Sam both agreed that she should keep her distance, for obvious reasons. I know she likes to do what she wants, and that's all fair and good, but this is a totally different situation. She could end up carrying Cloean's child! And who knows what it'd look like, how the hell would we explain a gingerbread baby to the doctors who delivered it!

"Uh...ahem," she shook her head as if to make herself think clearly. "Sharika, umm…do you feel the pheromones?"

I stopped mentally fuming and thought about what she said…Oh, forgot about that. Now that I took a moment to stop and take in my surroundings I noticed an obvious change in the atmosphere which Cloean keeps around him. That is I didn't feel the need to constantly dote on the man currently pinned up against the wall. _Crap. _That must be the real Dean. Talk about embarrassing. I apologized to Dean as I gently put him back on his feet.

"When I saw you two kissing, I thought it was the clone," I clarified.

"I gathered," Lauren said, looking at me strangely, and avoiding all eye contact with Dean.

"Are you two together now or what? You've kissed three times by now," I said. I was really curious, were they or weren't they? You can't kiss a guy three times and still be in complete denial about your feelings towards him.

"Ha! No! What?! Yeah…um…I'm going that way –" she pointed over my shoulder, and then dashed past me into the living room. I guess I was wrong. Perhaps most people can't be in denial about their feelings after kissing a guy three times, but this is the McMartin. I should have known better.

"How long to go?" Sam asked, entering the kitchen and glancing at Dean, who was standing where I'd left him, completely at ease. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, and he was smiling a little at me and Sam.

I looked down at my watch. "A minute," I said. One minute to twelve. One minute is still long enough to conceive a gingerbread baby! And considering that it's Lauren, it'll probably have spaghetti hair.

"I don't think she'll do anything," Dean said when he noticed the uneasy look on my face.

"What makes you sure about that?" Sam asked, doing his head shake thing.

"Let's just say, I taught her a thing or two." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, looking completely convinced.

Okay, what am I missing here? When I walked in on them two they were making out, not learning lessons. Unless she was taking an advance class in French kissing and decided that she needed to practice for the exam, I really doubt that being mauled could be counted as a lesson. I opened my mouth to vocalize my thoughts when I just closed it. It'd be better if I didn't say anything.

I glanced at my watch again, it was one past twelve. "He's gone. We should give Lauren time to mourn, and grieve."

"Why? It's not like she had any emotional attachment to it," Sam said.

"This is a woman who arranges funerals for her dead potted plants, an actual funeral, complete with catering and music and a mini sized coffin. I'm dead serious," I responded.

And I really was. Fine, so it only happened once, but once was more then enough. She had been working on one potted plant, to see how big it could grow for a science assignment. She continued to work on it, even after having completed her report, to achieve her goal. She was very proud of it. But one unfortunate day, her potted plant was acquainted with her cat. If you could call it that (it was this huge thing which actually terrorized the local neighbourhood dogs in its spare time). Not saying that her cat, Mango, is completely crazy, just that it was utterly insane. Which is worse. Anyways, Mango tore the thing to shreds, Lauren was devastated.

To help her through her 'emotional crisis', Fiona jokingly suggested that she throw a funeral for it, a suggestion which Lauren obviously took seriously.

She didn't hire real caterers, or actually buy a coffin or paid a priest to reside it, but it was a funeral non-the-less. I had to help dig the grave.

"I don't doubt that," Dean stated, not the least bit weirded out by this fact.

I looked up at Sam, "We should go."

"Yeah," he agreed.

_I haven't slept in two days…_the thought randomly entered my mind. That was true, two nights ago we were out till four am, then I got _distracted_, and I stayed in bed for about half an hour, waiting for Sam to fall asleep, then I got up to make the healing potion. Then last night, the fight, and then reconciling and waiting for Sam. Well, tonight I couldn't wait to curl up under the covers, well, after some much needed _distractions_ of course.

I turned around and walked out of the kitchen to see how Lauren was taking Cloean's death.

She was standing next to the couch, staring sadly at the burnt lump of dough, with paper slips sticking out of it that was cradled in her hand. "Don't say anything, not a word," she said to us, struggling to make her voice as normal as possible. "I mean, it's not like – it's not like he was an actual person or anything. How pathetic would I be to miss a guy made out of this?" she smiled at us normally, holding the piece of burnt dough up carelessly, but I saw the way she swallowed, hard, as though she were trying not to cry.

I nodded, deciding to stay quiet just like she had requested.

_You wouldn'__t be pathetic, _I thought. _You'd just be Lauren, and she cares about things like that. It's part of her quirky personality, one we all love. _

I felt two large hands descend upon my shoulders and I looked up to see Sam standing behind me, doing what I was, i.e. peering sadly at Lauren.

She walked past us and entered her room, closing the door gently behind her.

"Let's go," Sam said softly.

I nodded again. "Bye Dean." I fare welled my future brother in law

"See ya," I heard him reply.

Sam enclosed one of my hands in his, ran his thumb over my fingers, and led me out the door.


End file.
